A Different Hole in the World
by PteraWaters
Summary: Slightly AU starting at S5 - A Hole in the World. Spike has a vision of Fred's impending death. Will he and Angel be able to change her fate, or will she be doomed to death at Illyria's hands? Spike/Angel
1. Part 1

_Welcome to the first chapter of my Angel/Spike series. As you might expect from the title, this is a rewrite of the season 5 episode, "A Hole in the World." What follows afterward is a rewrite of the last eight episodes of the season, with a Spangel slant to them. Please, enjoy what I have written and don't feel shy about leaving feedback, even on these older entries. I eagerly read every review and appreciate them all._

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**A Different Hole in the World**

Part 1

For longer than I would ever admit, Spike and I had yelled back and forth at each other, pacing around my office as we argued. He would yell at me, getting in my face about how his opinion was the only opinion that made sense, while I would yell right back, knocking down each of his arguments in turn. My answer to the problem was the only answer that truly made any sense. It had to be. There was no way Spike could be right about this, let alone anything else that really mattered!

Eventually, Spike got right up in my face, concluding his argument with, "You just want it to be the way you want it to be!"

Meanwhile, I shouted over him. "It doesn't matter what I want!"

We stood nose to nose, neither conceding ground to the other. If anyone was wrong about this, it was Spike. As I stared him down, standing too close to him, Spike's scent filled my nostrils and he reeked of lust, the smell baffling me and clouding my head. Every time we argued lately, Spike smelled more strongly and I kept fighting to ignore it, to keep things between us the way they were. But we kept getting into these long drawn-out arguments time and time again, and he kept smelling like _that_. Maybe he just got off on annoying me.

Spike opened his mouth to continue the argument, to continue annoying me, but brain-addled with lust and desperate to shut him up, I grabbed his head. Before he could speak, before either of us knew what I was going to do, I kissed him, pressing our lips together fiercely.

Surprisingly Spike responded, leaning into me and returning the pressure of my kiss. His lustful scent surrounded me and when I opened my lips slightly, his tongue met mine. Not even bothering to think about what I was doing, I let my hands drop from his face to his shoulders and Spike settled his hands at my waist. What the hell? He wasn't pulling away! But I wasn't either, was I?

I could feel the call of my blood in his veins and the bond sizzled between us at once comforting and enticing. Being this close to him again, touching him, kissing him, felt so nice, and it reminded me of before, when he'd been part of my family. When he'd been our William, brash young Spike who would never listen, who got us all in trouble just because he could. Who had fought at my side, who I'd considered my companion, and maybe even my friend.

And now he was here again, pissing me off in that way only he could and I was slipping my hands into the collar of Spike's coat and pushing it from his shoulders. When his coat hit the floor, both Spike and I snapped out of it, staring at each other in surprise. Eventually his face twisted into a pretense of anger.

"Oi!" he yelled hotly. "You're just trying to shut me up!" He punched me in the eye. "Because you know you've lost."

"Yes to the shutting you up," I said, recovering and latching onto the excuse he'd given me. "But I'm still right." The sex rolling off Spike's skin was almost unbearably strong and when my nostrils flared as I inhaled it, Spike's eyes dilated, anger clouding his face.

Before I could gather my wits and stare him down properly, Spike pounced on me, taking us both to the ground, him on top. The shock of the fall immobilized me, but he just started hitting, punching at my face and ribs. "I'll shut you up, you bloody ponce!"

He got in a few good whacks before Wesley walked into the office and Spike froze, arm still cocked to hit me again. Taking that brief opportunity, I shoved him off me and halfway across the room. Standing, we both stood to face Wesley, Spike crossing his arms over his chest defensively and I leaning against the conference table, glad I hadn't eaten yet that day. If I had, I'm sure I would have been blushing as much as Spike was.

"Is this argument," asked Wesley, "something we should all be discussing?"

Spike and I looked at each other briefly and I answered, "It was mostly _theoretical_." Wesley regarded us in a way that made me feel like we were two arguing school boys who had been caught fighting by the teacher. At least we hadn't been caught kissing.

"It just looked a little serious." Wesley looked at us expectantly, eyebrows high on his forehead.

Eventually Spike spoke up. "Right," he said, bravado pasted on again, thick in the carelessness of his voice. "So, if cavemen and astronauts got in a fight, who would win?"

The man looked at us for a few breaths before he asked bemused, "And this is what you two have been fighting about for forty minutes?" Neither Spike nor I corrected this notion. The five minutes we had spent kissing didn't exist. After a few more moments of silence, Wesley furrowed his brow and breathed a sigh. Then he asked, "Do the astronauts have weapons?"

We replied in unison, "No."


	2. Part 2

**A Different Hole in the World**

Part 2

Several hours after our fight-kiss-fight episode, Angel called me to his office. "This had better be good," I said, climbing up and over an armchair before dropping into it. "I've got money in a poker game downstairs and after what you did to me earlier, I'm not going to put up with any more of your crap." I slouched down into the chair, my posture a rebellion against the corporate lifestyle Angel had been clinging to lately. He stood with his back to me, looking out the window. Bloody git was brooding again, wasn't he?

"So?" I asked when he barely acknowledged my presence.

Solemnly, Angel turned to face me, his face turned down in a frow. Just my luck, the ponce would give himself wrinkles from frowning at me in disapproval, giving him yet another bit to grouse at me over. "Spike," he sighed, "this isn't working out." What? What wasn't working out? Us?

"You mean you want us to annoy other people?" I used a sarcastic and overly dramatic tone, but kept up my guard. If there was any Angelus left in Angel, he could be incredibly cruel with what he said. And after our kiss earlier – which, if you must know, I hadn't been _entirely_ opposed to – there was great opportunity for cruelty.

Angel pursed his lips at me reproachfully and walked to put his desk between us, resting his hands on the back of that ridiculously big chair. (I'd say he was overcompensating with that chair of his, but I've seen the bloke naked.) He sighed again and said, "Lindsey brought you back here, to Wolfram and Hart, so you'd get used to it, get attached."

"Not attached; it's just," I said quietly, looking away from him, "I've nowhere else to go."

Angel tilted his head at the tone of my voice, which didn't come out as nonchalant as I had planned. "What if you did?" he asked, coming around the front of the desk and leaning back on it. "I could give you anything you needed – a car, an expense account – to take the good fight somewhere else. Preferably outer Mongolia."

"Anywhere but here," I muttered quietly. Angel _was_ trying to get rid of me. I should have seen this coming, ever since I beat him to that bloody idiotic cup. He couldn't stand having me around, knowing I'd been the better man.

But there was that kiss earlier. It could have started as a way to shut me up, as I had accused and he had agreed, but it felt like more than that. Maybe it wasn't. Just my stupid imagination. And now he wanted me to leave, get out from underfoot, go out on my own, fight the bad guys anywhere I could find them. Anywhere but here – with Angel.

I thought about the times I had been alone since Drusilla left me. Got beat up by Buffy a lot, got microchipped, got a soul. Went crazy, killed a bunch of people, got burned up. Almost got pulled into hell by an evil ghost, nearly killed Angel over nothing, got tricked into working for Lindsey, got my hands chopped off. Wasn't a very good track record, now was it?

Angel sat on the corner of his desk, watching me think and twiddling his thumbs. Well, let the ponce wait. This was a big decision. He probably didn't need an answer right away, but I already knew what I was going to tell him.

I couldn't go off on my own. The past few months had proved that I wasn't a lone champion. I was just the guy who could help, if anyone would care to point me in the right direction. Angel was really good at finding the right direction, or at least he used to be. If he couldn't deal with my presence, that was just too bloody bad.

"Sorry, mate," I said, looking up at him. "I'm no good on my own. No bloody good. Haven't as much practice as you."

He huffed wordlessly and went back to standing at the window. He hadn't told me to leave, but he hadn't told me to stay either. I gave him a minute before I got bored and joined him at the window. "Not gonna cry, are you?"

"No," he scoffed, letting me know I was nothing to cry over.

"Good, 'cause I may be a champion, but I have no idea what I'm doing most of the time." He laughed at this, at the truth in it. It felt good, making him laugh. I may dislike the git most of the time, but he's still my grandsire. Now that I had my soul, it had seemed like its presence would make the vampiric bonds less important, but it didn't. I still felt the faint pull of shared blood whenever we were close enough. It was a nice feeling to have back, warm and welcoming. Like home. Angel must have suffered quite a bit after he left us a hundred years ago, without that bond. Of course a lot of the suffering must have been caused by the guilt. I feel it too, the guilt. I know who I've killed, every one of them, I just choose not to wallow in what's done and gone like some tossers I could mention.

Angel and I stood in silence, looking out over the city and thinking. Well, I reckoned he was thinking since Angel never stopped brooding, and I couldn't put his offer out of my mind. I'd done the right thing refusing, hadn't I? Angel had been without family for so many years before he had surrounded himself with this pseudo-family of humans and demons – a family that he seemed to be pushing further away, ever so slightly, since I had arrived. I could see that he didn't want to be alone, but he couldn't let anyone in either and it had gotten worse since Cordelia died. Bloody awful circumstances. When Buffy died, I almost lost it – and she hadn't even liked me very much when she kicked it. To lose someone who truly loved you as well? Excruciating.

I slipped my hand into Angel's, and the blood-bond between us intensified slightly. "'m glad you're not alone anymore, mate," I said, squeezing his hand faintly and he didn't pull away like I had expected. "After you left us, I worried about you."

"You worried about me? I thought you hated Angelus."

"Some of the time you were a bloody right git, and I did hate you. But Angelus was also lots of fun," I told him, smirking out over the city below. "We're not meant to hunt alone, not always. I worried about you as much as a soulless demon could."

He turned back to the window, but didn't drop my hand. When he spoke again it was softly, "You always did feel more than the rest of us. Love. Worry. Trying to beat it out of you didn't work," he chuckled before pausing and I could feel his eyes on me, studying. "Maybe because Drusilla was your sire."

"You think the crazy bint didn't make me quite right?"

"Would explain a lot." We both laughed a bit, and I withdrew my hand from his. "D'you miss her?"

"Who, Dru?" Angel nodded at me in assent. "Sometimes," I said. "Ol' sack a hammers was always a good laugh." He huffed a chuckle.

"If it wasn't for the crushing guilt," he said, crossing his arms at his chest, "I think I would miss her too."

After a few moments of contemplative silence, I said, "Well I'm glad you've built yourself a new family, Angel. You may say you don't mind being alone, but we both know that's a load of crap. If you really want me to leave, I will." I looked down at my shoes, "But I'd rather not."

"Yeah," he said, trying to add begrudging to his voice, and failing. "You should probably stay. With Wolfram and Hart planning something, it would be best to keep everyone close."

"Uh huh, might need me for a fight, and all that. Anyways, I'll be back downstairs. Got to claim my winnings before these evil employees of yours make off with them."

I strode to the door, painting a sneer on my lips. God forbid anyone 'round the office know I actually liked the big git. I had just grabbed the doorknob when I doubled over in pain, slapping my hands to my head in a silly effort to keep my skull from splitting open. Buffy had told those government bastards to remove the chip, hadn't she? But then there were pictures to accompany the pain and I forgot everything except Fred.


	3. Part 3

Part 3

When I opened my eyes and found Angel looking down on me."…wrong, Spike?" he was saying. "What happened?" He crouched down and helped me sit up.

"There's something wrong with Fred."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"She's been infected by something right awful."

"What? When?"

"Just now, I think. But don't worry. I know what to do." I let Angel help me up and led the way from his office.

"Spike," he said as he followed me to the hospital wing, "did you just have a vision?"

"S'pose I did, then." I kept the pace fast, but Angel had no trouble keeping up with me.

"Have you ever have visions before?"

"Nope, first one. Can't say I care for them much."

And then we were at the entrance to the hospital wing. Knox, Fred's lab manager leapt up from a chair along the wall. "Where is she?" Angel asked, adding that protective growl to his voice.

"In there," stammered Knox, pointing to a room down the hall. We rushed to Fred's room.

When we were far enough from Knox to be out of human earshot, I said to Angel, "I really don't like that guy."

Angel brushed me off in favor of asking, "Fred, what happened?" She was sitting on a hospital bed, putting her socks and shoes back on. She must have just gotten dressed after being seen to.

"Oh, nothing," she said sweetly. "This neat ol' sarcophagus showed up in the lab and I accidentally inhaled some mummy dust. Don't worry. The doctor says I'll be fine. Mummy free."

I stepped up to her, putting my hand on her shoulder. "No, pet, you won't be fine."

"What do you mean, Spike?" She looked at me, then at Angel.

"Apparently Spike has had a vision about you." Angel sounded less than convinced.

"That sarcophagus is going to kill you unless we get the both you and it to a certain place, and soon."

Fred regarded me with those analytical eyes of hers. She tilted her head slightly and asked, "Did Cordelia kiss you?"

I was speaking before I thought better of it, "Yeah." I cringed and Angel hit me upside the head. "Oi!" I turned to the big git. "_She_ kissed _me_, I'll have you know. Sort of celebratory, yeah? After I protected you guys from those zombie guards. Was just a peck, mate. Let's focus on Fred."

"I'm fine, guys, really. No trace of infection." She hopped off the bed and faced me. "I –" but her words were cut off when she coughed spasmodically. Bright red sputum flew from her mouth, hitting me across the face.

"Well, that's not good," I mumbled as she began to collapse. Angel, the big hero, caught her as she fainted. I helped him get her up onto the bed and he called for help. I stood back against the wall as medical personnel swarmed the room, taking care of Fred. I wiped the blood from my face and fought the urge to taste it. Hey, having a soul doesn't change the basic vampiric instincts. It's what makes having a soul so hard. Makes you struggle every day, trying not to kill your friends just to see what their blood tastes like.

I skirted the room, attempting to escape the press of doctors and nurses. I certainly didn't want to get in the way of whatever they had to do. Meeting Wesley at the door, I instantly recognized the need to keep him out of the room. I didn't think Fred's time would be so short, but if this was it and she was done for, he didn't need to see it. I saw Buffy's death painfully clearly and I wouldn't wish that on any man.

"Wes," I said, pushing him from the doorway and into a waiting chair against the wall. "Wesley, mate, let the doctors work."

"Is Fred okay? What happened to her?" I could hear his heart going a million miles a minute and the smell of panic rose from his skin.

"She's been infected by something," I said, trying to train his attention on me, instead of on the hospital room. "But it will be okay. I know what to do."

"Do what? Have you seen this before?" Wesley's eyes were wide, and he stared into me for answers. "What is it?"

"Listen, Poindexter. I'll tell you what I know, if you'll sit still and quit asking so many questions." I put a heavy hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. He finally looked at me, instead of through me, and nodded. "Right. This old sarcopha-thingy –"

"Sarcophagus?" Wesley corrected.

"Yeah, that. It sprayed some dust at Fred and infected her. If we don't get her to this guy in a tree, she's gonna die."

"What guy? In a tree? That doesn't make any sense."

"Not much, but that's what I saw, mate."

"Saw?"

"Had a vision, I did. Said Angel and I had to get both Fred and the Sarcophagus to this door in a tree. Seemed important to do it soon."

"You had a vision?" The wry tone in Wesley's voice said he didn't believe me.

"Sure did, mate. Hurt like hell." He was still looking at me in disbelief. "Hey! No one told me it was a bad idea to let Cordelia kiss you before she snuffed it."

"She kissed you? That must have transferred the visions."

"That's what Fred thought, as well." We both craned our heads to look up and into the windows separating us from Fred's room.

"So we have to figure out where to bring them." Good, I had gotten Wesley into Watcher mode. "A tree with a door in it? Like Christmasland?"

I smiled and nodded at the reference. "Sorry the man upstairs didn't give me an address."

"Oh, don't worry Spike. That's not your fault," he said, looking down and furrowing his brow in concentration. At least someone here recognized I was an innocent bystander in all this mess.


	4. Part 4

Part 4

When the doctors had gotten Fred stabilized, I invited the others into her room. Spike and Wesley were first, but Gunn, Lorne and Knox followed shortly. We stood around her bed, except for Wesley, who sat down beside her. At the disturbance to her mattress, Fred finally stirred and opened her eyes.

She looked at all of us and said softly, "Handsome man saves me." Wesley reached out to take her hand. The rest of us tried to comfort her in soft words and platitudes, but everyone in the room knew that Fred was dying. Unless we did – I did – something drastic, Fred would be gone. The doctors told me the infection was eating away at her organs, liquefying them. And Spike claimed he knew how to save her, that he had a vision. It was time for drastic, and if that included going along with Spike's idea, so be it.

I led the way from Fred's room, surprised that Wesley didn't leave with the rest of us. I turned to Spike, who was at my side more often than not lately. "Wes and Fred?" I asked him, sure he would know. He was always a terrible gossip.

"Hmm," he nodded, "You didn't know?"

I crossed my arms and shook my head. I knew that I had been pulling away from my team since we took these jobs, but I was surprised that I didn't even know when two of my best friends had started seeing each other. Oh, I wasn't surprised at the two of them. I had seen that coming for a long time now. I was just surprised I hadn't noticed when it started.

Wes bent and kissed Fred lightly on the lips before joining us in the hallway. Wes was kissing Fred, and I had kissed Spike. Why had I done that? It didn't make any sense.

Anyway, I led the boys away from the hospital wing and to the lobby between my office and Wes and Gunn's offices. This had become a fight, and I was the general, marshaling the troops. It was a role I played much better than law firm CEO.

"The doctors say she doesn't have much time, so whatever we're going to do, we have to do it fast. Her organs are cooking. In a day's time, they will liquefy."

"No," said Spike. "Not this girl, not this day." His sentiment was shared by all, I could feel it. Please, God, not Fred.

I looked at the men ringed in front of me. "Knox," I said, starting at the easiest order, "you keep working on the science side of identifying this parasite."

I moved to look at Wes. "Have you had any luck figuring out what sort of thing would be in a sarcophagus like this?"

"No," he said, the frustration evident in the strain in his voice. "It appears to be older than anything in our records."

"Keep at it," I said. "Fred's only chance is if we work this in time." I turned to Gunn. "Any idea where it came from?"

"No luck, boss," he said, shaking his head. "No one seems to have seen it delivered except Knox, and there's absolutely no paper trail."

"See if you can dig any more up. If we can determine where the coffin came from, we might be able to figure out where to get it back to."

"Sure thing, Angel."

I looked to Spike. "Lindsey and Eve have been playing us this whole time. This might be one of their tricks. Gunn found Lindsey's address, so I'm going to go see if either is there, beat some answers out of them. Twice the muscle," I said pointing to him, "will make this go twice as fast." He nodded sharply.

"And baby makes three, if the jailbird feels like singing," said Lorne. I was grateful he thought of someway he could help, because I had nothing.

I nodded at him, "Great." I paused, pursing my lips and trying to come up with the right words. Saving Fred was a war and this was the rallying cry. "Let me just say this," I said, thinking of the words that would get everyone doing their best, "Winifred Burkle. Go."

We split up, Spike and Lorne following me into the elevator. We couldn't fail, could we? Not with all of us working the problem. We wouldn't fail. It was just something I had to believe.

I looked over at Spike, who kept his gaze steadfastly forward. Maybe I was a little glad he hadn't taken me up on my offer. He was blood and as much as he pissed me off, it was kind of nice having him around. I wasn't so special anymore. I wasn't the only vampire with a soul. But maybe that could be a good thing. There were two of us now. Maybe I could spread out the burden, not feel so beaten down by what I was.

When I looked over at Lorne, I was surprised to see him looking back at me. He raised an eyebrow in my direction, but didn't say anything as he turned to face forward. Was he reading me? Did he know I kissed Spike? I didn't even sing!

It was a relief when we reached the motor pool and were on the way to Lindsey's place.


	5. Part 5

Part 5

Angel bashed down Lindsey's door and walked right in. I was surprised when I could follow. Lindsey must not live here anymore. We searched the apartment, which was covered in tribal-looking symbols. It didn't smell like Doyle, or Lindsey, whatever his name was, had been here for a long time. But someone else had. I followed Angel to the bedroom door, which he opened saying, "Well I'll be damned all over again." Lorne and I flanked Angel as we approached Eve, who sat up on the bed, clutching the sheets to her chest.

"Don't touch me," she plead. Oh how I used to love the pleading. It rang just a touch hollow now that I had my soul.

"Hiding out from the Senior Partners, Eve? How many sick days do you they give you before you get canned?" Angel was certainly having some fun torturing her. Fred was in a bad way, and Angel was getting cruel, letting some of Angelus slip forward. Can't say as I blame him.

"What do you want, Angel?"

"We're not here to kill you, Eve," said Angel, approaching her. "We just want some information. Something has infected Fred, mystical parasite. Might sound a little familiar."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She looked satisfyingly frightened.

I stepped up beside Angel. "What about your boyfriend? You two got some wacky scheme, sending coffins about?"

"Have you heard anything from Lindsey, about Lindsey? I really don't know – "

Angel cut her off. "This can either go very quickly, or very slowly, Eve." Oh he _was_ letting Angelus out a bit. Torture wasn't wrong if it could save a friend's life, was it?

"C'mon," I said, raising my voice. "Sarcophagus. Older than anything we know."

"I didn't have anything to do with –" Out of nowhere, Lorne slugged her in the mouth. Demon could throw a punch!

"Oooh," he said, shaking his hand out. "Look at me. I'm Jake Lamata over here." He bent down, putting his face right in the girl's. "Listen to me, Eve. I'm going to read you, right now. And if I hear one note – one quarter note – that says you had anything to do with this, these two won't even have time to kill you."

Eve sat wide-eyed as Lorne backed up, but she nodded and started singing. I didn't recognize the song, but her voice was high and sweet. She got two lines in when Lorne stopped her.

"She's clean," he said to Angel, turning away from the girl.

"You've been wrong before," he pointed out.

"And I could be now, but she reads clean."

Angel gave one last look to Eve, and turned to the door.

"Wait!" she cried, standing up. "You're not going to tell the Senior Partners where I am, are you?"

"Hell of a bargaining chip," I sneered, turning to follow Angel.

"If this thing isn't in our records – there isn't anything in our records except what came before. The old ones."

"Demons who were around before humans existed," said Angel, turning to hear what else the girl had to say.

"The old ones died out a long time ago, but they don't die like we do. Wesley doesn't know it, but his books can call up any text in the world. Tell him to look for the oldest scrolls. You need to find the Deeper Well."

I had no idea what she meant by that, but Angel seemed satisfied by her answer. He left the room, and I followed, wondering which of her words triggered this determination in him. It must be the promise of further information. I was a little disappointed we didn't have to torture Eve. At least Lorne got to punch the sneaky little bitch.


	6. Part 6

Part 6

The six of us met back in Wesley's office. I had called him from the road about the Deeper Well and he had an answer waiting by the time Spike, Lorne and I arrived. "You've found it? You know how to get to the Deeper Well?"

"Yes," said Wesley, pulling out a map and spreading it across his desk. "My team has tracked it down to the acre, here in Essex. It must be the place Spike saw in his vision."

Spike smiled at me smugly, obviously happy to be vindicated.

Wesley continued, "It's called Illyria, based on the symbols we found on its sarcophagus. It was one of the most feared and loved demons, one of the most powerful rulers." That sounded daunting. Hopefully we could stop this thing, this parasite, before it ate Fred up. Who knows how many more of my friends it would spread to when it was done with Fred?

"How is everything else going?" I asked Gunn and Knox.

"I can't figure out how to isolate or slow down this thing," said Knox. "Even freezing doesn't retard its progression."

"A little more info about how it got here," said Gunn, holding up a piece of paper. "I've got a lead I'm following up."

"Alright, so Spike and I have to take both Fred and the sarcophagus to Britain. We can be there in ten hours."

"You can be there in four," said Knox, looking bashful when all eyes turned to him. "We have really fast jets," he said by way of explanation.

"I'm coming with you," said Wesley and I almost fought him on the issue. But he looked so worried, so much in love with Fred. How could I deny him the chance to spend what could be the last few hours of her life with the woman he loved? I know I needed that one last chance to talk to Cordelia, even if I didn't know it would be the last time. And when Buffy died, I spent a few weeks wishing I never would have left Sunnydale, or that I had visited on occasion.

I nodded to Wesley. "Let's move quickly. Even with a really fast jet, Fred is running out of time."

We got Fred to the jet and settled her in the back with Wesley and one of the doctors. Spike and I sat in the front of the plane, giving Wes and Fred some privacy.

"Never flown in a plane before," Spike said, trying to start up a conversation.

"I've been in a helicopter before," I said, boasting a little. "But they – they don't go up this high."

"Back to the mother country, eh?" Spike looked away from the window, but not at me. His mother country, anyway. In my mother country, we hated the British. Or, at least we had when I died 250 years ago.

"Maybe when we save Fred," I said hopefully, "we can stop by Dublin on our way back. Get a drink."

"That Irish swill you call beer? No thanks, pet."

'Pet'? That was a name he usually reserved for pretty women or small children. I frowned at him and turned back to the window, willing this super-fast jet to fly even faster. Those four hours were some of the longest of my life.


	7. Part 7

Part 7

We left Fred and Wes at the outskirts of the forest that contained the Deeper Well. Wes couldn't pinpoint the entrance exactly and Angel suggested it would be better for Fred to stay put until absolutely necessary. She didn't look very well. Her eyes were sunken, her skin yellowed, and her brow shimmered with sweat. I pulled Angel away from her, recognizing the need to find this place as quickly as possible.

We wandered through the thin forest, looking for a door in any of the trees we passed. "When is a door not a door?" I asked, quoting one of Wesley's old texts about the Deeper Well. "When it's bloody well not there!"

Of course the fates were listening to me, because a second later Angel stopped me, nodding to the tree directly in front of us. The trunk was in shadow, but it had a definite door-like shape. "What do you want to bet," he said, "that's the entrance to the Deeper Well?"

"Either that or Christmasland," I quipped, looking over to Angel for appreciation of my joke. He just furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Do you _ever_ have any fun?"

A flash and a clap of thunder heralded the arrival of two demon warriors from the doorway. "I'm about to," said Angel, readying himself for a fight.

"And look," I nodded to the swords they carried. "They brought us weapons." I limbered up a bit as they approached us. "Strategy?"

"Just hold my hand." Angel _was_ warming up to me. I shrugged and placed my hand in his, smiling when I felt the razor wire coiled there.

"St. Petersburg," I remembered, somewhat fondly for how many humans we had killed that day.

"I thought you'd forgotten," Angel said, making sure I had the loose end of the wire before dropping the remainder. We pulled the wire taut between us and swiftly beheaded the demons. Picking up the swords they dropped, Angel and I used them to meet the other demons that followed. We fought side by side, just like old times. The demons fell in waves before us, unprepared to take us on as the team we had become. Angel had fought in hell for a hundred years, had defeated thousands of demons there and here on Earth. I had endured the trials to win my soul, and I had defeated Angel. They were no match for us, but they kept coming for the slaughter. We fought for what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes or so.

The current wave of them fell and I beheaded my last demon. "Is that all?" Angel shouted into the night. "We're just getting started!"

Another flash and a thunderclap heralded the arrival of a man, who stepped from the shadowy entrance to the Deeper Well. "It's enough," he said, approaching us.

"Drogan," said Angel, recognizing the man. "I didn't know you were the keeper of the Well."

"Aye, for several decades now." The man didn't look older than thirty-five. I inhaled trying to get his scent and a clue to what sort of immortal he was. Nothing. Not a bloody thing.

"Who –" I started to ask, but Drogan cut me off, sticking a finger in my face.

"Don't…" he said, pausing for emphasis, "ask me a question. If you ask me just _one_, vampire, I _will_ kill you." He turned with a sweep of his cloak. "Enter the Well," he commanded.

Angel leaned towards me, "He could do it, too."

Still flabbergasted by the man's odd behavior, I turned to Angel. "What's with him?"

"He really doesn't like questions," said Angel, motioning for me to follow Drogan in to the tree.

"Well, why not?" How did Angel know this crazy bloke? S'pose a man has to be quirky to keep watch over a bunch of dead demons, but this was overkill.

Angel looked to Drogan's back, then to me as he began to follow. "Because he can't lie."

Hmm. Some sort of immortal that Angel knew who couldn't lie. This day just got weirder by the second. I followed behind Drogan and Angel into the Well.

He led us down a dark tunnel, carrying a torch to light the way. "Illyria was a very powerful demon, pure. It was loved and feared as few are. Even millions of years after its death, it still has acolytes."

"Illyria ended up in Los Angeles," growled Angel. "The man I knew couldn't be stolen from so easily." I noticed that cleverly wasn't a question.

"I believe its escape was predestined. It was not stolen, it simply disappeared."

Angel asked, "Teleported?"

Drogan nodded, the gesture barely visible in the low torch-lit cavern.

"Took you long enough to notice, didn't it?" I said, getting frustrated with this whole exposition. Drogan turned to me angrily. "Not a question, mate."

He turned back as we entered a cavern, and extinguished his torch in a small pool of water. "I did not notice because my charges are not few."

We entered the cavern, stepping out over a bridge that spanned a deep but narrow chasm. There was blue light shining from below and I looked over the railing of the bridge to see thousands of coffins like Illyria's stacked as far down as the eye could see. Suddenly the name 'Deeper Well' seemed perfect for this place.

"You see?" asked Drogan.

"How far down does this go?" I asked, only realizing when I was done that I had asked a question. This whole speaking around Drogan's little quirk was really difficult for a guy like me, who tends to speak before he thinks, yeah?

The Keeper merely answered, "All the way. All the way through the Earth." He pointed to the cavern beyond the bridge. "The power to bring Illyria back lies through there. It will require a champion who has traveled from where it lies."

"You've got two of those right here," said Angel and I was proud he included me in that count. "But we've done one better. Illyria's essence has infected a woman, so we've brought both the sarcophagus and Illyria's essence with us."

"It's escaped? But how did you know to bring both the coffin and the woman here? The method of drawing the Old Ones back to this place is known only to me." Drogan eyed us suspiciously.

"Spike had a vision. Sent by the Powers that Be." I grinned at Drogan, proud I had been able to interpret the vision correctly. Angel took a breath and turned to me, "Spike, would you go back out and call Wesley, tell him where we are?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, running back through the tunnel, relying on my night vision to get me there with just my lighter for illumination. I wondered why Angel had sent me off so abruptly. Must've wanted to tell Drogan the story without wasting Fred's precious time. No, we definitely couldn't have that.

A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews, guys! We've got one more chapter after this one, and then I'll start posting chapters from the next episode (already completed). I'm following out the rest of the season and then beyond with these altered situations, and I'm thinking about rolling them all into this title, so you won't have to change story alerts and so on. What do you think?


	8. Part 8

Part 8

When I could see the entrance, I pulled out my phone and called Wesley. I talked him through driving the medical van to the right spot, hearing the engine before I saw them. I ran to flag Wes down, having him drive the van as close as possible to the Deeper Well, which was no mean feat given the piles of dead demons Angel and I had left lying around. Fred, the skinny little bit, would be easy to get back to Angel, but the sarcophagus was another story.

Coming off the plane, we had loaded the coffin onto one of those collapsible medic's gurneys so it could be pulled from the back of the van without a forklift. I was praying that the contraption wouldn't collapse under the weight of the stone sarcophagus and that it would fit down that rough-hewn tunnel. While Wesley loaded Fred into a wheelchair, I got the sarcophagus out of the van and over to the tunnel. I let Wes go ahead of me, since he could both carry a torch and push Fred's chair.

"Go as quickly as you can, mate," I said to him, "I'll be right behind you and I don't need much light."

It was a bloody pain in the ass getting that damn sarcophagus where it needed to go. It almost toppled more than once, but I didn't let it fall. I would rather have it crush me than explain to Wes and Angel why I didn't have it there in time. Speaking of the git. "Angel," I yelled down the tunnel. I had to be getting close to the Well, right? "Come help a bloke with this bloody thing."

I wasn't as close as I thought I was, but his vampiric hearing had Angel running towards me soon enough. "Hey," he said, taking the forward end of the gurney and pulling.

"Hey, yourself. Just because I've signed on to your merry band of heroes, don't think you're gonna make me do all the heavy lifting."

"Yeah, yeah," he dismissed as we made our way down the tunnel, across the bridge and to the cavern on the other side of the Well.

Drogan had lit torches all around the cavern, which was much larger than I thought it would be. In the center of the room was an altar made of the same red stone as the floor and walls of the cavern. It looked like someone had just pulled up that piece of the stone, shaping it as needed. There was a deep black, polished rock embedded in the center of the rectangular altar, the torchlight reflecting off it in flickers. Etched into the cavern floor was a circle directly between the entrance to the cavern and the altar. It was here that Wesley was laying down Fred, under Drogan's direction.

Drogan looked up when he heard us. "Good. Bring the sarcophagus here, between the girl and the altar." He pointed a line parallel to the altar and we moved to follow his direction. "You. Man." Drogan moved to Wesley's side.

Wesley glanced up, "Who me?" before he returned to staring at Fred, who looked worse by the minute.

"Yes you. The one who is not a champion. You must leave this room." He directed Wesley forcefully by the shoulders, pushing him back and over the threshold of the cavern entrance. "You must stay behind this doorway. Look at me! Stay completely behind this doorway until I say it is safe to enter." He moved his face in front of Wesley's to get his attention. "Do you understand me?"

"Yeah," said Wesley, holding up his hands in surrender and staking a step back. But his eyes were still on Fred. "Yes, I understand."

"Good," said Drogan. "It could mean your life if you choose to disobey." He turned back to me and Angel. "It is good there are two of you. This spell ends up killing a lone champion about half the time."

Hah! It was good I was here! I smirked at Angel, an 'I told you so' arch in my brow. And he had tried to get rid of me. Lucky I hadn't let him.

"Stand over here," Drogan continued, leading us to the far side of the room. On the exact opposite side of the altar from Fred was another circle etched into the stone floor. We all stepped inside. "This circle will protect us from Illyria's spirit while it is free from either vessel. Here," he said, taking one of our arms each, "clasp your arms like this." He put my hand to Angel's forearm and vice versa. "Hold both arms and don't let go until I say so."

Angel grabbed my free arm and we stood face to face in the circle with Drogan.

"You will be each other's anchor as I draw on your life force to perform the spell. If you hold fast, I won't end up draining either of you completely."

"Okay, Drogan," said Angel gently, but I could feel the frustration beneath his skin. "Let's get on with this."

Drogan faced the altar, his back to us. I could hear Fred whimpering, but I couldn't see her beyond the altar and the sarcophagus. The Keeper brought his hands together in front of his face, as if he were praying. An almost inaudibly low hum filled the cavern, and I got the sense that there was much more going on than I could hear or see or smell. I felt myself weaken and I clutched Angel's arms, looking up at him with wide eyes. He tightened his grip as well, pulling me closer and keeping me upright.

Fred whispered to Wesley. "Wes, I'm not scared. You have to tell my parents I wasn't scared. I'm not scared." Wesley whimpered in sympathy from the threshold. I clung to Angel and he to me as Drogan's spell continued.

The hum intensified, though I still couldn't quite hear it. It was more something that was felt, rattling one's teeth and bones. Angel faltered next and when I tried to hold him upright, the wave of weakness hit me as well. We both fell to our knees, but we managed to stay in the circle and keep hold of one another.

"Please, Wesley," said Fred, and I imagined her reaching out to him. I heard her heartbeat slow. "Why can't I stay?" A few more and her heart stopped beating; her breath ceased. I looked at Angel and the devastation on his face told me that he heard Fred's death as well.

"No!" cried Wesley, just as Drogan separated his palms from one another, slowly as if he was pulling them through snow or pudding. The hum deepened, pressurizing the air almost unbearably. There was another pull on my life force, and by the way he slumped, I figured Angel had been drained as well.

The scraping sound of Wesley shifting his feet found my ears, but before I could draw breath to warn him off, there was a loud crack. I heard his body collapse to the ground, pulseless and lifeless. Angel clenched his jaw and squeezed my arms painfully tight.

And then Drogan clapped his hands together. The hum ceased and the pressure in the air dissipated. He left the circle at a run, calling back to us, "It is done. It is safe."

Angel and I helped each other up and rushed round the altar. I fell at Drogan's side next to Fred, and Angel continued to Wesley. Drogan was already breathing for her, trying to save her. I'm a vampire. I know how to take lives, but I never learned how to save one. I looked to Drogan for some direction, "What can I do?"

As he pumped her chest, he said, "Talk to her. Bring her back. Illyria damaged her body, but her soul is still there. Call it back."

I nodded and swallowed, taking Fred's hand in mine. "Fred, luv. You're safe now. Angel and I saved you, so you can't give up on us now. Please, pet. Please come back to us." I brushed the sweaty hair back from her face, noticing her skin was still quite warm. It had only been a minute or two, right? "Please, Fred. We need you here. Wes needs you here. Come back, pet. Come back." Drogan bent to breathe for her again, and as he drew back she coughed.

Oh sweet merciful God, she was alive! Her heart beat and she drew a few ragged breaths. I tugged her into my lap, being careful not to disturb her too much. She may have been demon-free, but her body was still heavily damaged.

I looked over to Angel, who held Wesley's hand to his chest. He was rocking back and forth slightly, but he wasn't crying. I couldn't hear a pulse from here. What was going on?

Angel saw me looking at them, saw Fred beginning to stir. Without emotion, he said to me, "Wes is dead."

**A/N**: Dun, dun, dun! Don't worry. I won't leave you hanging in suspense for too long. This chapter marks the end of the first 'episode', A Different Hole in the World. The next episode, Crowded Shells, will appear here starting with Chapter 9. So, what did you guys think of the story up through here? I've been getting a lot of encouragement from you guys, which makes me super happy! If you've got any critiques or suggestions, I'd love to hear those too. I've been sorely neglecting my NaNoWriMo novel and my real work, but posting for you guys is just so much fun!


	9. Crowded Shells Part 1

Part 1

"Wes is dead," I said mechanically. The words didn't seem to mean anything, but then they meant everything. At one point I had wanted to kill Wesley for taking my son. But at the time of his death, he didn't remember Connor, or his betrayal or my murderous rage. He only remembered being my friend. And now he was dead.

"Angel," said Drogan, putting a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. "He was not protected when Illyria was drawn from your woman. He died quickly." I wished that Drogan could lie to me, tell me Wesley would be fine. There was no hope in the truth.

"Bring him back!" cried Spike, still holding the alive-again Fred. "Revive him like you did Fred!"

"I am sorry, vampire, it cannot be done. When Illyria tore through him, it consumed his soul. There is nothing to revive."

No hope in the truth.

I laid Wesley's hand down on his chest and stood, leaving the room. I had to escape that chamber, that death cavern. I rested my elbows on the bridge railing and stared down into the Well's abyss. Fred was saved, but Wesley was dead, with no hope of returning.

A minute later, Spike joined me, leaning his arms on the railing too. "Spike," I said, but I just didn't have the rest of the words. We sat in silence for too long. When he spoke, it didn't seem like long enough.

"There's a hole in the world," he said, his voice rich with emotion: wonder, grief, irony. "It seems like we ought to have known." His words made a terribly exact sense. Maybe it was his history as a poet. Or maybe he just saw more and thought more than I ever gave him credit for.

There _was_ a hole in the world. And it got wider with every loss, every compromise, every death and every sacrifice.

"I shouldn't have let him come here, Spike." I turned to face him and he looked back at me. "I should have made him stay outside, back in LA. Anywhere but here."

"Anywhere but here," Spike mused softly, echoing his words of less than a day ago. I wondered if he was still sore about my attempt at getting him to leave. Suddenly, I realized I was truly glad it hadn't worked. Because of him, we had saved Fred. But then again, because of Spike's vision, Wesley was dead. If Spike hadn't been around, hadn't mentioned that we needed to bring Fred to England, I was sure we wouldn't have. And Wes would have stayed in LA, safe and sound.

"Wes isn't a champion. Wasn't. He had no business being here." I pounded a fist on the railing, frustrated with my lack of foresight.

"Except Fred."

"Except Fred. I _knew_ how much he loved her. Hell, I could hear it and smell it. Effective leaders don't take emotion into account when making decisions. Fewer people get killed." Wes was dead because I had let my emotions make the decisions. Well, no more. No more thinking about love or sympathy or how good Spike smells standing next to me. Just cold facts, efficient.

"But without emotion," I asked Spike, "am I much more than Angelus?"

Spike put a hand on my back. "I see you, Angel. And Angelus is still a big part of who you are. That's not gonna change. But you're more than him. The guys in charge have chosen _you_ to be their champion. A hero. And if that means leading with your heart instead of your head, then that's just how this fight was meant to be fought. You can't save them all, Angel."

"How many more?" I stood up and Spike let his had fall away from me. "How many more will I have to sacrifice to this damn war?"

"I don't know, Angel. My vision didn't show this part. My guess? As many as it takes."

As many as it takes. God help us.


	10. Crowded Shells Part 2

Part 2

Angel and I stood staring at one another for some time. Usually I can read his face fairly well, which is a great survival skill where Angelus is concerned. But now, there were so many emotions playing across Angels' face, through his eyes, which Angelus could never feel, I didn't recognize them all.

At least he was actually listening to me. That's the responsibility of the leader's second in command, isn't it? Telling him the words he needs to hear, even if he hates you for it? I hoped he didn't hate me.

We regarded each other unflinchingly until a hoarse cry echoed from the spell chamber, raw and naked in its grief. Fred had woken and seen Wesley.

I remember making that same sound when I saw Buffy's body hit the ground after the fight with Glory. Fred made that sound now.

Angel and I both went to her, cradling her in our arms, holding each other as much as we held her. I felt a bit like the office acquaintance at a wake, forced to watch the family grieve and fall apart. I didn't know Wesley very well, but he seemed like an okay chap. I mean, Fred had loved him, and her heart was capable of such huge love that having it ripped away must have been the most pain she'd ever felt.

Wesley was Angel's friend, had been with him almost since he'd begun his fight in LA. If Angel had been human, I would say it must have been like losing a brother. But Angel wasn't human, and although he grieved mightily, that grief was tempered by how overwhelmingly long his lifespan had been. How many deaths he had already seen.

Eventually Fred stilled, exhausted by the disease that almost killed her. That _had_ killed Wesley. I picked her up and carried her while Angel went to Wesley's body. Expecting there to be some rictus of horror frozen onto his face, I was surprised to find his expression almost peaceful. He might have been asleep, but for the fact that his open eyes were growing slowly dull.

Angel pushed his friend's eyelids shut and lifted the body into his arms before we expressed our thanks to Drogan and took our burdens home.

The flight to LA, with Fred laid out and under a doctor's care and Wesley's body just laid out, was excruciating. Angel said as few words as possible, ignoring my futile attempts to get drunk off those tiny airplane liquor bottles.

I don't know why they make them so small. It's a tease, like 'this is what a bottle of Jack would look like if you were a giant.' Or very far away. Bloody unforgivable.

The return to Wolfram and Hart was just as heartrending as I expected it would be. Fred went directly to the hospital wing, while we followed Wesley's body to the morgue. Gunn, Lorne and Harmony joined the procession and soon anyone we passed was apparently compelled to follow. I was glad Wesley's face was covered along with the rest of his body. It wasn't right, these strangers trying to get a look at his corpse.

At the morgue's swinging doors, I let Angel, Gunn, and Lorne finish pushing Wesley into the room. Cold air wafted my way as I blocked Harmony's entrance. No way she would go in there now.

"Spike!" she complained, trying to go around me. "Why can't I go in? I liked Wesley, too!"

I looked behind her to the others, all nameless faces in the crowd. None of these people deserved to be in that room, not with Angel as vulnerable as he was. I growled at Harmony. There was no way I would let her, with her perky attitude and social insensitivity, anywhere near my grandsire. Not today.

"Geez, Spike," she said, annoyed.

"Angel doesn't want you there." I growled again.

"Fine," she turned with a huff. "I'll go back to work, where they still use _actual words_ to boss me around."

"Isn't that the truth?" I muttered humorlessly as I watched her go.

The morgue was cold and dim, except for the examination light directly above Wesley's gurney. I glanced around the room, noticing a doctor and one of his assistants in the corner. I feinted at them and growled, chasing them from the room. This was a private moment. I wasn't even sure I should be there.

But then Angel looked for me, and I moved to his side, a position that was quickly becoming customary. I felt the warm pull of shared blood and it had a calming effect. That was one thing I could do for Angel, anyway. A poor substitute for bringing back his friend.

Lorne and Gunn stood opposite us across the body, both waiting to confirm Wesley's death for themselves. Gunn pulled the cloth back, exposing Wesley's face. A choked sob escaped his lips. Lorne wailed and Angel grabbed my hand. The contact surprised me at first, but I recognized his need for it as tears streamed down his face. Finally.

"No," said Gunn, breaking the grief-filled silence. His voice was shaky but resolved. "Not in our world. Death doesn't have to be the end." Voice reflecting a new resolve, he cried, "Willow! She could bring him back. She brought Buffy back, didn't she?"

"Well, yeah, but –" I started.

"I don't wanna hear it, Spike. We can't lose Wesley. Not like this."

"Angel," I said, turning to him, "what Drogan said…"

"I know." He clenched his jaw and sighed through his nose. "There's nothing to bring back, Gunn. Wesley's soul was destroyed."

"Then we can't…" Gunn slumped onto a stool behind him.

"Fraid not, Charlie-boy. Wes is gone."

In the silence that followed, everyone but me was crying. I felt alone, even in company. I didn't belong here, mourning a man I barely knew. I squeezed Angel's hand one last time and left. He could deal without me. He'd been doing it for a hundred years. And if I was gonna feel alone, I might as well be by myself. Made more sense that way.

_A/N: I posted two chapters today. I figured they were both pretty short and went together well. What did you think?_


	11. Crowded Shells Part 3

Crowded Shells - Part 3

That evening, after Spike disappeared and Lorne and Gunn both went home, I stood outside Fred's hospital room, watching her sleep. Well, watching her rest under sedation so her body could heal, anyway. I leaned my forehead against the cool glass, trying not to think about the things I could have done to make this go differently. Even though it was unintentional, I had traded one friend's life for another's. Why did it always have to be a trade? Why couldn't the Powers just make things be the way they were supposed to be?

I heard Spike's footsteps and the swoosh of his coat as he approached. Stopping a few feet away, he stood next to me, but I didn't look over at him. He was always around lately, following me. Oh, sure it was a good thing he had followed me to Britain, or I might be dead along with Wesley. But why did he have to be here now? I felt the pull of my blood, my bloodline, in him, diluted once over. Maybe that was nice to have around again. Family.

After a few minutes without acknowledging his presence, I kept my head resting against the glass as I turned to glance at him. I'd been expecting that he be looking at Fred, like I had been. Instead, he was contemplating me, his head tilted to the side. When he noticed me looking back, Spike cleared his throat and turned away, toward Fred. She was lying peacefully, though her skin was still a sickly yellow and there were dark circles under her eyes. Things would get worse when she woke up and really knew Wesley was gone.

Spike clapped a hand to my shoulder rather more roughly than I thought necessary. Why was he always around? I shrugged him off, angry, but he returned his hand, gripping my shoulder almost painfully.

"That's enough brooding for now, big guy," he said, turning me away from Fred. "D'you think she'd want you here all hours of the night? You should get some rest."

"Can't sleep," I grumbled, turning back to Fred, ignoring his hand on my shoulder.

"Well you can't stay here, luv." Love? What was with him lately? "How 'bout you come with me down to that training room near the lab, yeah? We could have a bit of a spar, cheer you right up."

I thought for a few seconds. Wes was dead and there was nothing I could do to save him. I was _supposed_ to be that guy that saves people. But I couldn't save Wesley, I couldn't save Cordy, I couldn't even save my own son from _himself_ without making a devil's bargain with Wolfram and Hart. The helplessness fed my frustration and the rage I had been pressing down all day bubbled closer to the surface. "Beating your face in does sound pretty good right now," I snarled, glancing at Fred one last time before starting down the hallway at a brisk clip.

Spike laughed, "You can try, mate. But who beat who the last time we fought?"

"It was a fluke," I explained, trying to control the fury that boiled my blood, "pure dumb luck."

"Yeah, we'll see how dumb my luck is," Spike boasted as we stalked through the hallways, entering the training room a few minutes later.

I shrugged out of my jacket, hanging it on one of the empty weapons hooks near the door. As I turned to Spike, he said, "Gettin' undressed, are we?"

Rolling up my sleeves, I cringed at the suggestion in his words. Was he always this flirty? "It's expensive. I don't want to get your blood all over it."

"Right," he said slowly, as he let his own coat fall to the floor. He began circling me to the right and asked, "You really think you can injure me that badly? Gramps?"

At least he hadn't called me 'pet'. I threw a half-hearted right hook high, which Spike easily dodged. "We'll see."

We quickly worked into the rhythm of punches, kicks, and blocks. Immediately I realized that this fight was going to be much less fierce than the one a few months previous. Today was more about practice, working off frustration, and some camaraderie.

And apparently foreplay for Spike. As we moved around and warmed up, the smell of sex seeped from his skin. Why?

I tried to ignore it, to focus on getting around his defenses, to focus on smacking that cocky smirk off his face. Even just sparring like this, we were pretty evenly matched. It made sense, since I had taught him a lot of what he knew. I noticed all the moves he'd picked up since I'd been cursed and was slightly impressed. But then again, spending a hundred years in a demon hell dimension had taught me a few things, too.

The first real hit happened when I followed a dodged punch with a high round kick that split Spike's lip and sent blood spraying. He growled as he recovered, getting me back with several quick jabs to my kidneys.

Soon I ended up pretty close to an empty wall and I noticed an opportunity to take advantage of the situation. On Spike's next attack, I used his momentum to slam him into the wall, pinning him there with my arm under his jaw, exposing his throat, my knee between his legs and my hip angled into his stomach. One of his arms was pinned behind his back and I grabbed the other, restraining it against his side. As the rage bubbled over, I felt my face change, the low demon's growl clawing its way from my throat.

He fought back, trying to free himself in fits and starts. The way I held him screamed to me of an attack meant for feeding and just as I was about to release him, I noticed the blood still welling up from the split in Spike's lip. The smell made my stomach rumble and set my teeth on edge. Spike's lust surrounded me, my anger at Wes' death tried to drown me, and the memories of a thousand feedings executed just like this overwhelmed me.

My tongue slipped out on its own accord and touched the blood. Spike started at the contact, but didn't fight or turn away. I seriously tried to step back, to wipe the blood from my tongue and forget I had ever done something so idiotic. But when that little drop of blood reached my mouth and the flavor exploded through me, it was all over.

I'd been expecting the salty-sweet of the plasma and the bitter metallic of the iron, but the wealth of other flavors amazed me. There was the spicy bite of demon, the savory taste of human (not usually found in vampires as old as Spike) and something else deeper, darker, and undeniable. It almost reminded me of a taste I had struggled to try and forget. The taste of Slayer's blood – of Buffy's blood.

Disturbed by this last thought, I wrestled back into the present and I found myself sucking on Spike's lip, drawing out as much of his blood as I could without biting. He moaned and writhed below me and was hard against my leg.

Stunned into action, I jumped back away from him, putting my hand to my head. Spike leaned back against the wall, heavy-lidded and pouting. Why did this keep happening? Spike's blood curled in my stomach and tried to pull me towards him. I fought the pull, staggering back a few more steps. This was not normal vampire blood. He shouldn't have such an effect on me. I'm his grandsire for god's sake!

"Spike…" I started, trying to take it back, but my brain was so full of him that I didn't know how.

"Yeah, pet?" He was back to this 'pet' business, dammit. I needed to distract myself from the blood pull. I needed to figure out what was going on.

"You taste different than you used to." No need to mention that different meant fifty times better.

"Yeah?" Spike swiped a finger across his lip and placed the little blood that was left onto his tongue, smacking a bit to get the flavor.

"Seems the same to me."

"You didn't notice how good it tastes?" Oops. Did I say that one out loud?

Spike waggled his eyebrows at me and let his tongue fall forward against his lower teeth. "Think I'm tasty do ya? Better than your garden-variety vampire?"

"If you must know," I said, quickly becoming frustrated with this conversation. And with the constant need to taste him again. "Better than your average human. Almost as good as Slayer."

"Little ol' me? Wonder why?" Leaning forward conspiratorially, he sneered, "D'ya think it's 'cause I boffed Buffy so many times?"

There was no answer that wouldn't result in his death, so I turned from him, enraged, annoyed, confused, and pacing the floor. I watched Spike watch me, tilting his head, a predatory gesture, almost like a wolf waiting for his opportunity to take down a deer. In this scenario, _I_ was the raw meat.

"Right, then," he said, standing from his lean against the wall and approaching me. "Let's have a taste."

"What?" If his blood was doing this to me, what would mine do to him?

"I figure I got my soul since you last bit me, yeah?"

"Yeah." I tried not to remember the last time Angelus had bitten Spike. Violent and erotic, it was Angelus' favorite kind.

"So I figure I gained a soul since you last tasted me. Maybe you're different, too," he crooned as he approached me. I couldn't argue the logic. But –

"Hey!" I pointed a finger at him, stepping back further. "When did you ever bite me?"

"Oh," he paused, looking up and thinking about it. "Was a long time ago. I was quite drunk and very hungry."

"And where was I?" There was no way Angelus would let Spike bite him, not in a million years.

"You were drunk off your ass, if I recall."

"And you thought I wouldn't mind? You know vampire blood doesn't ease the hunger for long. It's dead, nothing there to sustain life."

"Well I did say _I_ was drunk as well, didn't I?" He approached me again, angling for my neck.

Okay, no way I was letting him bite my neck, not with the air smelling of his lust. Not with what had just happened between us against the wall. Not with my fury at Wes' death whispering in my ear how easy it would be to beat Spike to death with his own arms and then take what I needed from him. It didn't understand Spike's vampirism. Only the need to throw him down and either wring his neck and drain him dry or bury myself inside him over and over again until I felt something different from this crushing grief. Instead, I held my wrist out to him. If I was going to do this, I would keep Spike at arm's length. Cringing, I wished I had longer arms.

Spike shrugged and took what was given, placing a light kiss on my wrist before he changed faces and bit down. A soft hiss escaped my lips at the pain. Drawing back slightly, Spike sucked at the blood that welled out around the wounds his teeth had made. He fed for longer than seemed necessary to get the taste, still latched on my arm, losing himself in my blood.

Carefully disengaging his fangs from my flesh, I pulled away, mostly intact. Spike tried to follow my wrist with his mouth until he realized where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. He licked the liquid from his lips like a cat and I shivered at the sight of my blood on his tongue.

"So?" I looked at him expectantly, watching the golden haze clear from his eyes.

"Mmm. It's good. Better than before."

"Did you notice the slayer-like quality?"

"Like chocolate," he mused, looking up at me. "Got my motor revved up a bit." He dipped in obscene emphasis, hand splayed flat on his lower belly.

I rolled my eyes to hide the wish that his hand be splayed out on my belly instead of his own, leaving the room and grabbing my jacket on the way out. I had to get away from him. Before something happened. Before the Senior Partners got in on what Spike and I had just discovered. I went back to my office, intending on leaving Spike behind and shutting myself in my apartment until his blood left my system and I was safe to be around.


	12. Crowded Shells Part 4

Crowded Shells - Part 4

But Spike followed me from the training room. He always followed me! "Where are we goin'?"

"Somewhere more secure. My office."

"You think someone's watchin'? Listenin' in? It's the middle of the night, Angel. There's no one here."

"You never know who's watching," I said, leading us into my office and closing the door. "_Especially_ here." I took a small metal case from my pocket and sat it on the desk, opening it. "This is a little spell made by a friend of mine. It will block spying eyes and ears of the mystical and non mystical variety."

"Whoop-de-do, Angel." Spike picked up the open box, peering inside. I took it back from him and placed it on the desk.

"This blood thing is something the Senior Partners can't ever find out about, Spike."

"What are you thinking, pet?"

"I'm thinking that if other vampires find our blood as uh," don't say mind-blowing and intoxicating, "delicious as we find it, some might pay through the nose to get it. I'm not worth so much to the Senior Partners that they wouldn't keep both of us as drained as possible." I sat down in the armchair facing my desk, while Spike sat on the desk, facing me.

"Okay, I can see how that could get bad. Don't fancy bein' a blood donor for the rest of my life."

"So this stays between just the two of us?" He nodded. Good. I really didn't need the Senior Partners on my back about yet another thing. Unthinking, I sucked on my wrist, trying to get the wounds Spike had placed there to heal.

"Want some help with that?" Spike's voice was low, husky.

"No." I stood up, carefully circling him as I moved toward the elevator. "You know, we're done with this conversation. I'll see you in the morning, Spike."

"Oi!" he shouted angrily.

"What?" I stood at the doors of the elevator and looked back at him, sure I didn't want to hear what he had to say.

"You're unbelievable, Angel. You're more of a tease than the Slayer ever was."

A tease? I hadn't meant to tease, that's for sure. I stood staring at him, open mouthed. How was I supposed to respond to that accusation?

"I'm a tease?"

"Bloody right you are. Smelling the way you do, kissing me, exchanging blood, practically dry humping me against that wall. It's obvious you want to, and it's not like we never…"

"That was only once," I yelled, "and I was evil."

"What are you afraid of, Angel? That you'll lose your soul?" He scoffed, almost cruelly. "We both know that wouldn't happen. Not with me. Scared that it's been a hundred years and you've forgotten how to get it hard?"

How dare –! I rushed him, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him down onto the desk. I trapped his legs with mine and put my face intimidatingly close to him.

"I'll have you know," I snarled, "it's been a lot less than a hundred years since I was with someone."

I fought my way back from the edge, keeping my hold on his neck only suggesting the pain I really wanted to inflict. I really shouldn't have been engaging him like this, not with his blood seeping through my body. As it moved through my veins like fire, I could feel the rage being replaced with something different. No safer or gentler or less frustrating, but different.

Spike scoffed at me, "And how'd that work out for you? The Slayer fucked your soul away!"

"Since then." I thought of those few liaisons I'd had since getting my soul a hundred years ago, both before and after Buffy. Briefly I remembered The Furies, my skin tingling. Man, that had been a weird week.

Spike continued, "Oh that little thing you and Eve had behind the couch over there? That must have been brilliant! Wasn't even you in the driver's seat."

"Darla."

"A hundred years ago. This is what I'm saying, pet. Can't be healthy."

"Try three years ago, jackass."

"Oh, ho! Had a tryst with mummy when she came back from the dead, did we?"

"And Dru." I had to slip that last one in there, go for the gut.

"You bastard!" The way he struggled underneath me, trying to get free, excited me more than it should have. My cock was so hard, I ached with need. Need for Spike of all people.

"To be fair, I was evil at the time."

Slowly he stopped struggling, "Dru always had a hard time being faithful." His voice took on more irony than anger, "Especially if you were around."

"So don't say I…"

Spike chuckled, an evil sounding laugh he hadn't quite lost. "I was just tryin' to get a rise outta you, Angel." He wiggled his hips under me. "Feels like it worked."

Ignoring the urge to thrust against him, I grumbled, "I wasn't trying to tease you."

"Every time we argue, Angel, you smell like sex. It's enough to get to anyone."

"What?" There's no way he could be telling the truth, right? "That's not me, it's _you_."

"It is so you!"

Had it been me? Given the kiss I had planted on him the other day, I was willing to at least accept the possibility that I had responded to him subconsciously. It had been a long time since I'd really had anyone, intimately. And here was Spike, pinned beneath me, ready and willing. Smelling of sex and family.

"Why do you want me?"

He seemed surprised at the question and looked away, voice getting smaller when he said, "You don't really care."

I loosened my hold on his neck, most of the rage dissipated into a mixture of lust and concern. "If I didn't care, Spike, why would I ask?"

"To be polite…"

"I've got you pinned to a desk. Do you really think I'm feeling polite?"

"Mmm," Spike hummed, looking down at our chests pressed together. "I see your point."

"So? Why do you want me? After everything we've put each other through…" Spike looked back and forth into either of my eyes and I let some sympathy temper the harsh anger I still had painted across my face.

"I don't know, Angel." He squirmed under me and scratched his ear with his one free hand. "I'm not one for extensive self-analysis. You know this."

"You do know why you want this and you're going to tell me." What the hell, I thought, pressing my hardness into him and brushing my thumb up his neck. His whole body shuddered under me.

"If I tell you, you'll stay?"

Spike was asking me to be there, to make good on the promises I hadn't known I was making. Without thinking, I nodded and he drew in a long breath, letting some of it go before he spoke.

"I'm so lost, Angel. I feel alone all the time since I came here. Since before then. I don't care for it. You're the only thing here I know, so forgive me if I've latched on a bit." Spike sighed again, his chest rising and falling beneath me. "You're so familiar; it feels better being around you. I guess I just want you to toss me around, cover me in your scent, and fuck me senseless. I want to drink your cold undeniable blood at the height of ecstasy. I want you to be my sire. Maybe then, luv, this feeling will subside."

I looked at him, really looked. His eyes were glassy with tears, but his mouth was set in a stubborn line. It was a lot to give, telling me all that. I know what it's like to feel so alone, even surrounded by friends. Swayed by his need, I kissed him lightly on the lips, drawing back before he could react.

Spike smiled at me, sadly, "Plus, I'm really horny." I laughed. Leave it to Spike to end on a crude truth. We stared at each other for a moment and I could almost feel my blood thumping, urging me to touch Spike, get as close to him as possible. "And why do you want me, pet?"

"What?" I should have been expecting him to turn the tables on me.

"Don't even say you don't," he said, thrusting against me, exasperating that keen ache in my nether regions. "I can feel and smell that you do."

I said the first thing that came to mind, "Have you seen you?"

Spike laughed. "Not for a very long time, luv." He looked into my eyes, brows raised in expectation of a real answer.

What was the real answer? "Every time we argue lately," I started, "your smell drives me crazy. And your blood in my veins; it feels so warm, so alive, curling through me, pulling me toward you, making me hard. I need something. Some relief. I need someone who won't take my soul. Someone who won't die on me. I need to bury myself inside you and forget for just a moment all the mistakes I've made. All the guilt."

Whispering, he said, "I can do that, Angel. Please. I can make you forget." Spike opened his mouth slightly, reaching up to kiss me, but I pushed him back down by the throat.

"No," I hissed. "We do this my way."

Spike gasped lightly, almost a sigh, and went completely still. Looking him in the eye I marveled at the need saturating his face, finding it was all the approval I required to continue. I kissed him then, fiercely, pushing hard enough to bruise. Spike hummed a moan and when I opened my mouth, his tongue met mine. His mouth tasted almost as good as his blood, the same bouquet of flavors surrounding my tongue and making my mouth water.

Together we found a rhythm of lips and tongues and teeth. Every time Spike started to writhe and thrust under me, I tightened my hold on his neck until he stilled, glad I didn't have to worry about suffocating him.

When he stopped fighting me for control, I shifted slightly to the side, keeping our mouths together and a hand around his neck. My free hand crept down over his chest, his shoulder and arm, his belly. He whimpered against my lips when I denied him that last step and let my hand travel back, tracing the same path upwards. He had called me a tease, it was only fair I tease him a bit. I traced my hand up and down this path along his body a few more times. Then I finally gave him what he wanted and brushed his cock, the fabric of his pants still separating us.

He moaned long and loud. "Please, Angel," he murmured against my lips. "Please." I undid his pants and slid my hand inside. Of course he wasn't wearing underwear and he felt of iron and silk and almost warm in my hand as I stroked him. My own cock twitched in sympathy, desperate for the attention I was delaying it. Slipping my hand at his neck around to the back, I settled next to Spike on the desk. Bringing a free hand up, he entwined a few of his fingers in mine behind him. I found the gesture endearing somehow. Sweet.

I stroked him determinedly as we kissed again, feasting on each others' mouths as starving men at a banquet. Eventually, when he was impossibly hard and almost shaking, I flipped Spike over, pulling him back so only his chest still rested on the desk. After ripping off his boots, I returned my hand to the back of his neck, holding him down, keeping him still. He moaned when I pushed his pants down and off, kicking his legs apart. I fumbled with the belt and buttons on my own pants, but soon they were around my ankles and I shoved them away. Pushing his shirt up as far as it would go, I trailed a finger down his spine, reveling in his exquisite shiver.

He was beautiful. Nicely wide shoulders narrowing down to slim waist and hips, tight round cheeks, strong legs. I spit into my hand and worked the moisture over his opening before slipping one finger into him. His body clenched a spasm around my digit and Spike started whispering "Please" over and over again. I should have remembered he never stops talking. He grunted as I worked a second finger into his ass, getting him ready for me, stretching him out.

Spike whimpered when I eased my fingers out, looking back at me as much as he could with me still holding his neck down. "You're sure?" I asked softly, lining myself up behind him. Watching his face just past the muscled line of his back, a small part of my brain thought, _mine_.

"For god's sakes, Angel!" he hissed. "Yes."

Shaking in anticipation, I let my cock press against his entrance, sighing at the relief of finally making contact. Working myself into him, rocking back and forth in shallow waves, I was aware now of how little moisture I'd used. I prayed I wouldn't hurt him too much.

"Oh, yes, please," Spike moaned.

God damn, it was spectacular. Spike's body was so tight around me as I fully sheathed myself in him, I thought I might die from it. My flesh had certainly missed what my heart didn't want all these years and what my mind thought impossible since Buffy.

Letting go of Spike's neck, I laid my chest out on his back, suddenly wishing I had thought to get rid of our shirts, missing all that extra skin contact. I pulled him up onto his arms and snaked my hand across his chest, holding him close enough that I could kiss his neck, his ear. Almost unconsciously, I drew out most of the way and pushed back in.

"Oh, Angel!"

"You like that?" I asked in his ear, pulling out and angling downward more for my next thrust.

"Oh, fuck. Yeah, you bloody poofter. Right there." I hit the same spot over and over again, one arm across his chest, the other hand digging my fingers deep into the flesh on his hip. I wasn't going to last very long.

My hand slipped up from his hip along his ribs and shoulder to his face, tilting his head to the side and pressing the inside of my wrist to his lips. True face slipping forward, I bit the exposed side of his neck, growling in ecstasy when his blood flowed into my mouth. In short order, Spike bit my wrist over his previous mark, his needle sharp teeth sinking into my flesh, re-opening the wound. The giving and taking of blood intensified the pleasure a hundred fold and Spike screamed his release into my skin and blood and bone.

As I pulled the blood from Spike's neck, clinging to him roughly, I spiraled into a flurry of mindless thrusts, need overwhelming. Needed to get there, needed that peace, that joy. Needed him. Spike's body convulsed around me, pulling me deeper, milking my cock until I bit down harder as I came and Spike roared in the pain and pleasure of it all. There it was. In that split second, inexplicably I felt a sense of belonging and _home_.

Breaking the spell of finding our pleasure together, Spike's arms gave out and we fell down onto the desk, my arm pinned under his chest. This new position made me hold him closer, the panting breaths of exertion and release storming through my nose beside his ear.

Slowly my head cleared and I released my jaws, letting my fangs disappear. With slow laps of my tongue, I cleaned the area around the bite, cleaned the area of delicious skin on his strong and supple neck. Spike did likewise on my wrist, sucking kisses around the wound that made me shiver. When he loosened up a bit, I withdrew and lay down on the ground, legs trembling and Spike collapsed next to me, but not so close that we were touching.

I had just fucked Spike for the second time in my life, and I couldn't even blame it on being evil. I wasn't sure how to feel about this. On the one hand, my body felt really good, light and almost warm. On the other hand, it was _Spike_: pain in the ass prodigal son, and the only other souled vampire in existence. At least I didn't feel particularly happy. I felt satisfied, but too confused to be content. The pull of Spike's blood was almost nonexistent now and I wondered if maybe it wouldn't come back. Yeah, right. The hunger always came back.

Always.

* * *

_A/N: Tah-dah!_


	13. Crowded Shells Part 5

_A/N: Okay, so I decided to post another chapter today, since this one finishes up the scene. I'm really proud of this one, and I hope you enjoy it. Please leave comments if you have any, I really love hearing them. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

Crowded Shells - Part 5

Lying beside me on the floor, Spike started giggling.

"What?" I asked, annoyed as I sat up and found my boxers and my pants, suddenly aware that I'd forgotten to lock the office doors.

"You must have been wound even tighter than I figured," he said, pulling on his own pants, shoving his feet into them and arching his hips to finish the job.

"Why do you say that?" Fully dressed now, I stood up, absently offering Spike a hand.

He took it, standing as he said, chuckling, "I never thought you'd go for it that easily."

"I blame your blood," I muttered, circling around my desk to put it back in order. "Remind me never to drink from you again." I grabbed a dusting cloth from a cabinet behind the desk.

Spike tilted his head, exposing the bite on his neck to me. "You really think you can resist this for long?" I shivered at the sight of my mark on his flesh as he stalked up to me. I could smell myself all over him and along with the bite mark, my primitive brain recognized a claim of ownership. I didn't want to own Spike, did I?

He wrapped his arms around my chest loosely and buried his nose in the cleft at my neck, inhaling up in a line to my ear. "Mmm." He was letting me know he appreciated how much I smelled of him. Mutual ownership, if I wanted it.

"I don't know," I whispered, unsure which question I was talking about. I guess it didn't matter. The answer was the same for either.

He smiled vaguely and reached up to kiss me. The kiss was sweet and gentle, and I caught the taste of his mouth again, almost as good as his blood. My shoulders lost some of their tension as I relaxed against his lips, almost imperceptibly.

"Here," I said, pushing the rag to his chest. "Clean off the front of the desk, would you?"

"Ashamed are we?" he asked, but he did as directed, wiping away the evidence he'd splattered there.

"Not exactly." I picked up a sheaf of papers that had been knocked to the floor, shuffling them back into a stack.

"Just don't want the whole office knowing about us?" He picked up a cup and started putting pens and pencils back into it.

"Definitely not," I insisted, but when I saw the hurt look on his face I continued. "These people have a way of using the ones I care about against me."

"Aw, Peaches! You care about me?" There was laughter in his voice, so I chucked a paperweight at his head, which he dodged easily.

"Don't go getting full of yourself."

"Who, me? William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, Scourge of Europe and a bloody good shag?" Tongue peeking out from between his teeth, he gave me a brilliant smile.

I laughed, shaking my head as we finished putting the desk back together. The silence between us had become almost comfortable and then I remembered what Spike had said earlier about feeling alone.

"I'm gonna go get some sleep," I said, pointing to the elevator behind me. "Did you want to tag along?"

"You mean sleep here, in a real bed? Not on some git's office couch?"

"Sure, why not? I mean we've shared sleeping quarters plenty of times before."

"When we were evil," he pointed out, following me into the elevator.

"When we were evil," I echoed. The elevator doors opened at my apartment and I stepped out, leading the way to the bedroom, Spike following yet again.

However, he paused at the bedroom doorway, leaning against it and tilting his head. Just looking at me for the moment.

"What?" I asked as I pulled a pair of sweatpants from the dresser.

"Still feeling soulful?"

"Yeah," I scoffed, taking off my trousers and folding them over a clothes bar. At his raised eyebrow, I tilted my head to expose my neck. "Do you want a taste test?"

"So tempting, luv," Spike said, entering the room and crossing it toward me. "But I think another kiss would do." I let him kiss me, opening my mouth when his tongue brushed across my lips. He tasted me once, twice, and pulled back, searching my eyes for something. "Huh."

"What?"

"I can see your soul. I can almost_ hear_ it."

"Good to know?"

"Good to know," he said, nodding. "So," he sniffed, putting his tough guy persona back on like he hadn't just been whispering sweetly and kissing me. He pointed to the bed, "You got a particular side?"

"Left," I replied, "closest to the door." I pulled my sweats on and started undoing the buttons of my shirt.

"Oh, that left."

"What left? There's only one left!"

"Well it depends on whether you're in the bed, or just lookin' at it, doesn't it? Pet." He grinned at me, eyes sparkling and gaze flashing to my chest as I took off my shirt.

"Sure, whatever," I said, getting into the bed exhausted. I realized it had been several days since I had gotten any sleep. My eyelids were almost heavy enough to keep me from watching Spike get undressed. Almost. He stripped all the way down and got under the covers next to me. As I turned off the light, I was glad that he didn't try to cuddle up to me. I was too tired to figure out whether or not cuddling was something I wanted. Right now, I just wanted sleep.

* * *

In the waning dark of the early morning, I watched Angel sleep. It's funny; while he's sleeping he tends to breathe every now and then. Like his unconscious mind still doesn't know he died two hundred and fifty years ago. And since he sleeps on his back, on occasion he starts snoring, the ponce. Angelus always slept on his stomach. Strange the things you remember.

I thought with Angel it would be just like Angelus, just something quick to burn off steam. A one-off that didn't mean anything. But it bloody well wasn't. Oh, Angel did some of the same things as Angelus, like insisting on being in control. Which was fine by me; it was something I needed on occasion. And like biting me just before I was about to come.

But Angel did things like ask my permission. Angelus just took what he wanted unless you stopped him. Angel held me like a lover and fed me his blood. I licked my lips, thinking about his blood. Oh, a vampire could get addicted to it so easily. Angel made sure I got off before he let himself go. Angel let me kiss him afterwards. Angel invited me into his bed.

When had I given up on trying to hate him?

I scooted closer to him, going over my thoughts again and again, struggling to make sense of what I was feeling. Sated and stretched out, definitely. I pressed my nose to his shoulder, drinking him in, noticing my scent on his skin. Angelus would have washed off by now. That Angel hadn't made me feel accepted, wanted in a way. I wasn't sure what I was wanted _for_, but that was a question for another day. I slipped an arm over Angel's chest, and when he didn't stir, I flung a leg over his hips and pillowed my head on his shoulder.

It was nice sleeping next to someone again. It reminded me of that last night with Buffy, holding each other as the end of the world approached. Bloody hell, what would Buffy think of me being here with Angel? She'd be angry. Would the lass be disgusted and angry? She was disgusted with most of the things I'd done before I got my soul, including all those times I fucked her. And after the soul, she didn't get much time to understand the new me. I was too much of a coward to ring her up, tell her I was alive. Instead I followed her ex around and let him shag me on his office desk. Well a bloke had to get his rocks off somehow, didn't he? And no other woman could compare to her. Not even close.


	14. Crowded Shells Part 6

Crowded Shells - Part 6

Early the next afternoon I woke to a phone ringing and Spike wrapped around me. I picked up the phone first, saying, "What?" before scooting out from under Spike, rolling him away by the naked shoulder.

"Oh my gosh, boss," said Harmony. "You've got to get down here."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"It's Fred."

"Is she dead?" I shook Spike to wake him up, hastily covering the mouth of the phone to muffle his groans of protest.

"No, no. She's still kickin'. But something weird is going on, I guess?"

Briefly uncovering the mouthpiece, I asked, "Weird how?" Spike rubbed the sleep from his eyes before he looked at me, raising his eyebrows. I mouthed at him, 'Fred.'

"Well I don't know! Gunn just told me to get you down here."

"Yeah, okay. I'll be right there." I hung up the phone and started grabbing whatever clean clothes I could find.

"What's goin' on, Angel?" asked Spike, yanking back on his clothes from the night before.

"Something 'weird' is going on with Fred, according to Harmony."

"Helpful little bit, innit she?" He laughed as he pulled his shirt over his head. "You want me to hang back for a few minutes, let you show up alone?"

"Nah. It sounds pretty crazy down there. I doubt anyone would notice anything."

"Just because you wouldn't notice, pet," he scoffed, "doesn't mean no one will."

"Fine. Stop calling me 'pet' or 'luv' in front of them and we can say you slept on the couch, okay?" I pulled a black jacket on and tried to comb my hair. "Is your pride satisfied?"

"Yeah, sure." He came up to me and took the comb from my hands. "Let me do it, you ponce," he said, pushing me to sit on the bed. In a few quick strokes, he said, "There. Good to go." He ran the comb through his own hair, taming the curls that had gotten loose while he slept. Or maybe while we'd had sex. Anyway, getting dressed together, him combing my hair, it was all very domestic.

I nodded and led the way back to the elevator, pressing the button a dozen times more than necessary. We made record time to the hospital wing, entering Fred's room at a run. Fred was yelling and struggling against Gunn and one of the orderlies.

"I have to go! I have to find the qua hazan!"

"Fred!" I yelled, holding down one of her shoulders and trying to get her to look at me. "Why isn't she sedated?"

"She is!" said Gunn, wincing as Fred dug her nails into his arm. "The doctor gave her enough sedative for a person my size, and she's still struggling against it."

"You don't understand," Fred said, looking Spike in the eye. "I have to find the qua hazan. It's very important. He has the key to the temple."

"I'm sure he does," Spike said to her soothingly. I recognized the tone he used to use with Drucilla, when she started talking about things no one else could see.

Lorne slid into the room then, "Holy cats, Angelcakes! What's with Fred?"

"Well she's not entirely lucid," I said, trying to hold her down without being bitten as she snapped her teeth at me. "Can you tell what's going on in there?"

"I can try," he said, approaching her carefully. "Fred, sweetie? Can you look at me for a second?" She swiveled toward him.

"Lorne?"

"Hi, Fred. What's wrong?"

"They won't let me go," she pouted. "I need to find the qua hazan!" She started struggling again, breaking free from Gunn's grasp and biting my shoulder.

"Yow!" Lorne exclaimed, helping Gunn and Spike get Fred back under control and her teeth detached from my jacket.

"What d'ya think, Green Jeans?" Spike asked as he rode Fred's legs.

"Well, it's all her in there, but the demon, Illyria?" I nodded to him. "Illyria left an imprint in her brain, pieces of its knowledge and personality. With all that extra info, and losing Wesley like she did, her psyche isn't exactly stable."

"What do we do?" I asked, dodging Fred again.

"I have to ask around, Angel hair. Find a psychic who can repair the damage, instead of just noticing it there. Can we keep her sedated for a while longer?"

"We can try." All of us kept her held down as the orderly strapped her in several sets of heavy-duty restraints. Only then could the doctor get close enough to her to inject more sedative.

"Keep a close eye on her," I said to the doctor. "I don't want these drugs killing her, but I don't want her roaming around in this state, either." The man nodded, picking up her chart and jotting something down.

I pulled the others out into the hallway. "It looks like we're still working this case," I sighed, nodding towards Fred's room. "Any further progress since we talked last?"

"Oh hell yeah," crowed Gunn and all eyes turned to him. "I found out that Knox brought it here, the sarcophagus. He also had help getting it out of customs, which I'm… still working on."

"Okay. Where is Knox now?"

"He's tied up in my office. Harmony is supposed to be keeping an eye on him."

"Right. Does anyone know what this 'qua hazan' business is?" They all shook their heads. "Okay. Lorne, you ask around about Fred, and try to keep an eye on her if you can. Gunn, track down that customs lead. Spike, try to get some info out of Knox."

"Can I hit him?"

I almost laughed at the slight eagerness in his voice, but it seemed highly inappropriate. "If it's really necessary..."

"What are _you_ gonna do, Angel?" asked Gunn.

"I'm going to talk to Wesley's team, ask them what else they know about Illyria. Maybe where this temple is. Sound good?" We broke apart, going back to work on this ugly case. I longed for the day when it was over, when Fred was herself again. Then again, I longed for a day where Wesley wasn't dead.


	15. Crowded Shells Part 7

Crowded Shells - Part 7

I strode into Gunn's office to see Knox tied up to a chair and gagged. Harmony was facing him, sitting on Gunn's desk and swinging her legs.

"Hi, Blondie Bear," she greeted me, smiling brightly. "Will you let me hit him? Gunn said I couldn't torture him at all. Not even a little." She pouted and I smiled at her.

"Maybe, luv. We'll see how talkative he is first."

"He hasn't said anything yet," she said plaintively.

"Harm, pet. He's gagged." She looked from me to him and back again.

"Oh, yeah," she shrugged with a chuckle. "Oops." I went to ungag the wanker, and Harmony continued, "But if he doesn't start talking, then can I torture him? Fred and I are really good friends. We go out for drinks all the…once." I chuckled. "I mean, we may not be as close as you and Angel, but –"

I stopped untying the gag, leaving it in place to interrupt Harmony, "Who says Angel and I are such good friends?"

"Well no one _says_, but his smell is all over you."

Bullocks. I had forgotten there were other vamps around. Anyone brighter than Harmony would have figured it out in a blink of the eye. I grabbed Harmony by the arm and pulled her to the far corner of the room away from Knox's range of hearing.

"Shut up," I whispered harshly, "'bout the me and Angel stuff, pet."

"Why?" she whispered back. "What happened?"

"I will tell you if you promise to keep your trap shut, okay? If you start blabbing this around and it gets back to Angel, I will tell him exactly who he has to behead for letting it out. Got it, kitten?"

"Yeah, Spike. I got all the scary threats. Top secret, I swear."

"Angel and I slept together last night."

"Oh, so you were in his bed, and that's why you smell like him? But why wouldn't he want anyone to know about a sleepover?"

"No, you stupid bint. We had sex. Angel and I. Last night."

"Ohh. Oh! Ew. Why?"

"I don't know. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Oh!" she squealed. "Now that you're gay, will you go shopping with me?"

"What? No! I'm not… I still dig the ladies." I sighed. "It's just, he's Angel."

"Oh, I know!" She slapped me on the shoulder a few times. "If I'm keeping your secret, you have to tell me one thing, okay?"

"What would you like to know, pet?"

"Does he look as good without clothes?"

I smiled at her conspiratorially. "Better." She squealed again. "Okay, pet. Now that your curiosity is satisfied, can we get back to torturing this git?"

"You bet!"

We both turned back to the chair Knox was supposed to be tied to, but he was no longer there.

"Where'd he go?"

"Well, I don't know, do I, luv? Did you hear anything?"

"We _were _kinda busy gossiping, Spike. Did _you_ hear anything?"

"No, I didn't." I went to the chair and inhaled deeply, getting Knox's scent fixed in my mind. I opened the door and followed the scent trail. "How could he get away from two vampires without making a sound?" The trail stopped at the lifts, of course. I hit the button to go down and got on, calling back to Harmony, "You keep looking around on this floor, yeah?"

I punched the button for the ground floor, because hey, that's where I'd go if I was making an escape. Lo and behold, the trail picked up again on the ground floor and went right out the front door into the sunny daylight. I turned around, searching for witnesses.

"Hey, you," I said to the security guys at the front desk. "Did you boys see a nancy-looking chap with brown floppy hair leave in the past few minutes?"

"Sorry, Mr. Spike," said the head bloke, who was wearing a blazer and held a clipboard, "It's been about twenty minutes since anyone left. Most everyone has been coming back from lunch."

"Right." Bloody useless chaps if they didn't even notice a blasted scientist sneaking out. Since I couldn't exactly follow Knox out onto the street, I caught the lift back up to Angel's floor. Where chaos was breaking out.

Lorne was trying to hide behind Harmony, while Angel was yelling at him.

"I didn't see beat up Gunn anywhere on the agenda for today, Lorne!"

"I swear I didn't mean to, Angel cakes!"

"Oi," I said, grabbing Angel's wrist, turning him toward me. Must not hold his hand in public. "What's goin' on?"

"Gunn's in the hospital wing after Lorne 'accidentally' pushed him down the stairs. Oh, and Fred is missing."

"Well, I hate to burst your bubble, big guy, but Knox is missing as well."

"What?"

"Harm and I turned our backs for just a minute, and he was gone. There was no sound, but I followed his scent trail to the front doors downstairs."

"Gunn said that Knox brought Illyria here?" asked Angel, looking back and forth between the three of us.

"Yeah," said Lorne, slowly. Can't say as I blame him for being cautious around Angel. I've seen my grandsire behead demons bare-handed.

"And Fred thinks she's Illyria and is looking for this qua hazan?"

This time Angel was looking at me, so I nodded.

"The bookworms say the qua hazan is some sort of priest. Illyria's earthly guide."

"So you're thinking Knox is the priest?" I asked.

"Bingo. And if I'm right, we should find them together, at Illyria's temple."

"Do you know where it is?"

"I've got the address right here." He patted his pocket. "Harmony?"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Keep an eye on Gunn. Make sure nothing _else_ happens to him." He gave Lorne a hard eye.

"Sure thing, Angel." Harmony flounced off, skirt swinging.

"Lorne, keep looking for your brain experts, and stay away from Gunn." Lorne nodded and slunk off. If a six-foot something demon can actually slink.

"We'll go to the temple," he said, looking at me, "try to find Fred and bring her back here."

In the lift on the way down to the motor pool, Angel leaned his head on my shoulder. The contact felt nice, and I was a little surprised he hadn't chased me off yet. I guess Fred was just more important. Or he actually liked having me around. "Why can't things ever calm down for more than five minutes?" he asked, quietly.

"Cause if they did, pet, we wouldn't be doin' our jobs." I wanted to pull him into a kiss, but the lift doors opened and we were on the move again.


	16. Crowded Shells Part 8

_A/N: Hey. If you tried to read this chapter a few hours ago and were very confused, it was because I loaded the wrong file. Here's the correct chapter for today. Thanks for putting up with me..._

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Crowded Shells - Part 8

I pulled the car up to the address Wes' people had given me, pointing, "That's it."

"That?" asked Spike. "It's an old bank building. Looks like it's for sale."

"It's not the actual temple, just where the portal opens."

"Bugger. There's portals involved now?" As I drove around the two story stone building, Spike pointed and said, "There. That door is open."

I parked as close to the building, looking up at the sun. At least the doorway itself was shaded. "We're gonna have to run for it, Spike."

"Story of my life, pet." He pulled his coat up and over his head, and I did the same. "Shall we?"

I nodded. "Go!" We opened our car doors in unison and rushed into the building, only singing a little bit. There's a reason we vampires favor leather. Makes for the best shade.

The building was pretty dark, the only light coming from the few windows. Banks tend to be pretty good places to hide from the sun. They're more defensible if they keep windows to a minimum. Plus there's always a vault, if you can figure out how to get inside.

Fred's voice echoed from the already open vault. At least I thought it was her voice.

"Maggot!" she yelled, her voice lower and her accent different. More stately than the southern twang I was used to hearing from her. Spike and I sneaked up to the vault. "You are the qua hazan. You worship me. Why won't you open the door to my temple?"

"I'm sorry," whined Knox. I peeked into the vault. Knox was on his knees, hands up in surrender, in front of Fred. She held a sword to his neck. Hey! That sword was from my office! Knox continued, "You're not who you think you are. Illyria is gone thanks to your meddling heroes. You're just Fred. I can't get you into the temple."

"How dare you defy me, worm? Your death will be an example for the others who wish to disobey."

"Wait!" I shouted, rushing in to the room. But Fred had already flicked the sword across his neck, severing down to the bone. Knox gurgled and fell over, his blood spilling across the floor. My demon thought it a terrible waste.

Fred turned to me, watching Spike join us. "Who are you to interfere with my business, half-breed? My minions are mine to destroy or keep, as I see fit." She cocked her sword, holding it with surprising agility. My instincts told me she could easily do some damage if I let her get too close.

"Fred?" asked Spike, stepping up. I put an arm across his chest, keeping him back. Even if she didn't kill us, she could hurt herself if provoked.

"Why does your pet confuse me with this Fred person? The qua hazan made the same mistake," she said, stepping closer and tilting her head eerily.

"Hey! I'm no one's pet!"

"You are the ruler of this kingdom?" she asked me.

"Yeah," I said carefully. I pushed Spike further behind me to prove the point. If Fred really thought she was Illyria, she only understood the old ways of power. I gave Spike a look, trying to tell him to go with it. Thankfully, he nodded.

"If you want to keep your kingdom, you will find me someone who can open the portal to my temple."

"Why? What's so important about this temple?"

"The temple holds my legion of armies, waiting for my return that we may ravage this world and crush it under my heel."

"Okay, Illyria?" She nodded at me slowly, eyes unblinking. "Why would I allow you to access an army that you're going to use to destroy my kingdom?"

"If you help me, I will spare your kingdom and your people. They shall be safe from the nightmares I will unleash on this world."

"I can't do it. I can't let you destroy everyone."

After a lengthy pause during which we stared at each other, she concluded, "I don't understand this world I've woken up in." Illyria shook her head, but kept her eyes on me and her sword raised. "Humans rule the earth, and a half-breed blood eater is their protector."

"The Powers That Be have a sense of humor."

Spike chuckled behind me. "Ain't that the truth?"

"Your dog speaks out of turn. In my day we did not abide such insolence. Would you like me to put him down for you?" She stepped closer to us.

"Spike is my lieutenant, my ally. His insolence keeps me strong." I backed us away from Illyria. How were we going to get Fred back? "Humans rule the world now, and it's our job to protect them from demons like you."

"Why? The vampire is a predator, meant to cut down the weak and terrorize the strong. Has even that changed so much in the time I have been dormant?"

"No," I said. "But we have both regained our human souls."

"Truthfully?" I nodded. "Your dichotomy disgusts me. I should put you both down and rid the world of creatures such as yourselves."

"Look at yourself, Illyria. You are human."

Fred looked down, holding out one hand for inspection. "A simple matter of form," she said, her voice wavering a little. "Merely temporary. Once I get into the temple –"

"You are _human_. And it isn't temporary. Spike and I entombed your demon essence in the Deeper Well, never to return. That body belongs to our friend, to Fred."

Illyria tilted her head, then, as if listening to something. "She doesn't want this body. The pain of this world was overwhelming."

"Great," said Spike. "_Now_ she remembers who Fred is."

"The human speaks to me. She doesn't want this world anymore." Illyria hefted her sword suddenly. "It is time I restored my kingdom. I will cut down all who stand against me."

She attacked us, surprisingly quick. I dodged an artfully placed blow that almost took my head off. She was very skilled, but Spike and I were both faster and stronger. We danced around her, but I know I was having a hard time actually hitting her. It was Fred. Sure, it was crazy Fred, but I just couldn't do it.

Spike was another story. He rushed her, getting sliced across the side as he disarmed her. The smell of his blood was distracting as Illyria came after me. She punched me in the jaw, harder than Fred should have been able to, but I didn't stagger. Instead, I pushed her back towards Spike, who she spun to meet.

He punched her, directly between the eyes, and she went down. "Right crazy bint," Spike said, shaking his hand out.

"How hard did you hit her?" I asked, dropping down to Fred's side. Her breath and pulse were both even and strong. Good. She'd probably recover.

"Don't worry, luv. I hit her just hard enough to knock her out. The sweet spot on the forehead. No permanent damage." He lifted up his shirt to get a look at the cut along his side. It was shallow, just a little blood seeping from the wound that was already closing.

"You okay?" I asked, being polite. It was obvious he'd be fine.

"Just a little scratch, Peaches. Nothin' to get worked up over." He ran a finger through the blood, wiping it from his skin and holding it out to me. "Unless you wanna get worked up?"

I was drawn to him, damn it. "We really should get Fred back to the hospital."

"Still too bright out to get her into the car. We should probably tie her up, though."

I had made my way to him unconsciously, standing as close as I could without touching. "That's a good idea."

Spike smiled an evil smile and touched the bloody finger to my lips. Oh, God. He was gonna kill me. My knees went weak as I sucked his finger into my mouth, cleaning the blood off with my tongue. So good. I moaned a little and Spike laughed, huskily. "Later, pet. We have to take care of Fred now." He backed off and started shuffling around in the tellers' drawers. "Try to find something to tie her up with."

I took some chord from my pocket, "Like this?"

"What are you doin' walkin' around with rope in your pocket, luv?"

"I thought we might need it when we found Knox. I wanted to bring him back to Wolfram and Hart alive." I bent to Fred's side, rearranging her on her stomach so I could tie her hands behind her back. I bound her hands with a series of knots meant to keep her bound, but not cutting off the circulation. I did the same at her feet and propped her up against a wall so she'd be more comfortable when she woke up.

When I turned, Spike was looking at me with his mouth hanging open. "What?" I asked.

"You've had some practice, haven't you?"

"What, tying knots? I've lived a long time, Spike. It's just something you pick up."

"Just one of those things," he drawled out, giving me a sidelong glance. There was a wicked suggestion in his words and I balked.

"Can you do me a favor and sit way over there?" I asked, pointing. "And I'll sit way over here," I sat at the back of the vault. "And we'll just wait a while until the sun goes down far enough to get Fred out of here."

"Why don't we just call one of your…what do them call them? Cleaner crews? They can come pick up Fred and Knox, get us back to the office."

"I suppose that makes sense," I said. I hate relying on the Wolfram and Hart teams. This last example with Knox just proved that we couldn't rid the place of all of the traitors. I flipped open my phone and tried to call the office, but it wasn't going. "Fucking thing never works."

"Angel, luv," Spike said, "you're in a bank vault. The telephone waves can't get through."

"Oh. Right." I had to pass Spike to get out of the vault and it took most of my willpower not to slam him up against the wall and take him. He tried to look innocent as I passed, but I could feel his eyes watching me, waiting. Would it always be like this? I liked having his backup on missions, but if he kept distracting me like this, someone was going to get killed. I made the call, hoping the crew would get here soon.

"So," said Spike. "What was all the brouhaha between Lorne and Gunn earlier? Green pushed the lad down some stairs?"

"Yeah," I sighed, but I was glad we were talking about something else. "Apparently Gunn was losing his brain upgrade and to get it back, he unknowingly let Illyria out of customs. Lorne found out."

"Gunn let that monster into your house? He's responsible for Wesley's death?"

"He didn't know what the consequences would be." I sighed heavily, "He made a mistake, and I'm trying to forgive him for that."

Spike nodded, though the look on his face said he didn't understand. We sat in silence, waiting. After a few minutes, Fred began to stir.

She looked up at us. "Angel? Spike? What happened? Where are we?" It was Fred, back in control!

Spike knelt down to her. "You don't remember, pet?"

"No. Last I remember I was in the hospital. After…" she trailed off, tears welling up in her eyes. "After the Well." I knelt down beside them, putting a hand on Fred's shoulder. "Why am I tied up?" Her eyes wandered past us to Knox, still splayed out in a pool of his own blood. "Oh, god! Did I do that to Knox? Is that why you tied me up?"

"Shh," I said, hugging her to me and blocking her view of the body. "It wasn't you."

"Why can't I remember?"

How much should I tell her? Was Illyria gone for good? "You've had a little breakdown. There was a tiny piece of Illyria left in your brain. An imprint, Lorne said. It took over for a few hours. But it's gone now, and as soon as we get you back to the hospital, we'll untie you."

Fred's voice changed again, and her head snapped up to stare into my eyes. "I am not gone," said Illyria. "In light of my defeat, I have allowed Fred control of this body. For now."

Fred's face changed again, the same components, but the expression and carriage very different. "Oh! Was that out loud?"

"Don't worry, pet," Spike said, stroking her hair. "We'll get this all sorted out very soon." He looked at me over Fred, worry in his eyes, which I reflected. The team couldn't get here fast enough.

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_  
A/N: Okay, so I absolutely love crazy Fred, and I couldn't help but go this direction with my series. There's one more chapter to this episode, a sort of denouement, and then I'm moving on to episode three: 'Underneath the Grief'. That one will be in its own listing, so if you want to get an update automatically, you might want to put me on author alert instead of story alert. If you can stand the mass of e-mails that come with my daily updates :)_


	17. Crowded Shells Part 9

_A/N: There's some graphic blood play in this chapter, so please be warned...  
_

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Crowded Shells - Part 9

Later that night, I followed Angel back up to his apartment and into the bedroom. Nothing much had been resolved. Fred had been double tied and sedated as soon as we got her back to the hospital. Gunn had a concussion and three broken ribs. Knox was well and permanently dead, and Lorne had gone off to get drunk.

Angel sat on the foot of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. I sat next to him, letting our legs touch from hip to knee, but I didn't push for more.

"This is a war, Spike," he muttered, "and I'm already two soldiers down. And with Gunn and Lorne at each other's throats, you're the only one left." He turned to face me. "Can I count on you? Even if things go badly between us, can I count on your help in this battle?"

Without even thinking, I said softly, "My life is yours." I put a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him to rest his forehead on mine. "This fight is more important than us. I won't walk away from that." I closed my eyes and just enjoyed being close to him. If this was temporary, I would take as much as I could get.

Angel pulled me closer and kissed me and I let my hand run up through his hair. "Ew!" I said, pulling back and wiping my hand on his shoulder. "Do you have to use so much hair gel, Peaches?"

He smiled and ruffled my hair, loosing the curls. "Oh no you don't!" I said, pushing him back onto the bed and pinning him down. His mirth was short-lived and a look of despondency swept over his face. Instead of retaliating, I covered him with my body, pulling him into a hug. I buried my face in his neck and held him.

Eventually Angel let his arms come up around me, holding me to him. He still smelled of me and I drank in his scent, drank him in. The smell was both comforting and arousing and I grew hard against him. Hey, I'm only - well not quite - human. Nuzzling my neck, Angel started brushing his hands along my back, from shoulder to ass and back again before kissing the skin at my neck and sinking his fangs into my flesh. It barely hurt at all.

Angel limited himself to just a mouthful before licking the wounds closed. I pulled back a little to look him in the eye and he smiled sadly, squeezing me tighter. I couldn't do anything about Wesley. I couldn't even do anything about Fred. But I could do this. I could be here for him and make him forget some of the pain.

I kissed him, gently at first, until I got the taste of him, a trace of my blood still on his tongue. Then, I pressed in closer, running my tongue over his, nipping at his bottom lip with my human teeth. He dug his fingers into the flesh of my ass and returned my kisses, the passion between us growing steadily. Once, he tried to flip us over, to crawl on top of me, but I refused to concede my position. This was about me taking care of him.

I got both of our shirts off and kissed my way down his chest, licking and sucking at him. Even his skin tasted of the war between his demon and his soul, bittersweet and salty. I undid his pants and pulled them down, along with his boxers. His ass was still at the edge of the bed and I knelt between his legs, running my hands up and down his sides and over his belly. Propping himself up on his elbows, he watched as I smiled and took him into my mouth.

"Ohh," he moaned and dropped back on the bed. Sucking as I pulled away, I then pushed myself back onto him, as far as I could go. "Spike," he whispered, and grabbed one of my hands, squeezing it as I drew back again. Changing pace, I let his cock rest down on his belly and kissed my way to one inner thigh. Once there, I licked up and down the skin over his artery, tickling him. Taking his cock in my free hand and pumping it, I sank my fangs into his leg. He hissed and shuddered as I started swallowing the blood that flowed freely from the bite. I sighed through my nose at the brilliant flavor of his blood, taking more than I had meant to. I bit down again to staunch the flow and gathered some of the loose blood from his leg, covering my fingers in it.

I worked my bloody fingers into Angel's arsehole as I licked the wound closed. He held onto my other hand tighter, blunt nails digging in to my skin. I caught his cock in my mouth again, timing my strokes in tandem with my fingers, making him impossibly hard until his body clenched my fingers so tightly it felt like they were going to get crushed.

I entwined the fingers of my other hand in his, took his cock in as far as I could go down my throat, and hummed. "Oh, Fuck!" he yelled. I flicked my fingers inside him, making Angel sit halfway up, abs rippling, grabbing my head, thrusting into me. He came down my throat and I swallowed him in, trying to keep up. Christ, even his cum tasted good!

Angel relaxed back with a moan. I let his cock go, lapping up what had escaped me before. He shuddered under my tongue and I felt strangely proud. When he had relaxed completely, I moved my fingers in him again, making him cry out. "You like that, pet?" I asked him, thrusting again for good measure.

"It's too good, Spike. Oh, Fuck."

"That's the idea," I said, pulling my fingers out. "Slide back a bit for me, would you, luv?"

Angel complied, sliding up so his head was on the pillows. I undid the buttons on my jeans, slipping them off and crawling up to him. "What?" he asked hazily as I laid myself out on top of him.

"It's my turn, isn't it?" He nodded and kissed me, brow furrowed. "I'll go slow."

"Thanks," he said, kissing me again and opening his legs for me.

I lifted up and swept some of the blood still oozing from the bite on Angel's leg into my hand. I covered the head of my cock in it and lined myself up with his entrance. He held onto my shoulders and curled up to kiss me as I pushed against his entrance.

Slipping in just an inch, I winced as he clenched around me. "Shh," I whispered to him. "Just relax." I ran a hand down the side of his face, cupping his jaw as I kissed him, slow and sweetly. After a few kisses, he loosened up enough that I could slide in a little more. He was still so tight, squeezing me, pain and pleasure.

I was about two thirds of the way in when he moaned, "Ohhh." Ah, ha. I drew myself back across that spot again, getting another moan out of him. I felt his hard cock against my belly as I pushed back into him, hitting his pleasure a third time.

"Hmm," I said, rocking back and forth. "You like the way I bugger you, don't you, pet?"

In response, he vamped out and bit my neck, making me cry out. The sound of Angel sucking and swallowing my blood made me thrust harder. Made my voice shakier, "Angel, luv," I said into his neck. "You're so bloody lovely. So tight, oh!" I nipped and licked at his neck, hindered a little by how tightly his teeth were clamped in my own. "Have to…" I bit whatever part of his neck I could get to, nice blood vessels or not. As we fed on each other's blood (oh, his was so, so good) I thrust into him, deep and fast, over and over again.

He moaned and growled around his teeth as I took him, biting down harder when he came. His cool seed spread between our bellies and I screamed my own orgasm, thrusting into him a few more times.

When I stopped shaking, I was able to disengage from Angel, rolling to the side. "Ohhh," I moaned. "Peaches, you are bloody fantastic." He turned on to his side to face me and I saw him wince. "Did I hurt you?"

He ran his hand over the bite on his neck. "You just mauled me like a dog, is all," he said, chuckling.

"Oi, sorry bout that. Couldn't reach very well."

"Well, after that blow you gave me, I'm willing to forgive you for getting carried away."

"Yeah?" I smiled him my evil smile, tongue peeking out from between my teeth, before I turned onto my side, fitting my back against him. "Note to self: if Angel's mad, just go down on him until he forgives you."

He laughed and pulled me closer, his arm across my chest. "Not the worst idea ever." Angel pulled a blanket over us and settled his face against the back of my neck. He sighed, but it sounded a lot less melancholy than before and I grinned into the darkness.

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_A/N: There you have it folks! The end of this two-parter. The next 'episode' in this series is called "Underneath the Grief" and I hope you've liked my story enough to hop on over and check it out. As always, I welcome critical reviews and complements. The more the better! I hope you're having a Happy Thanksgiving!  
_


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